Enthrall
by Yih
Summary: Draco's a veela that's been handed the tough task of seducing Harry Potter to the Dark Lord's side. Will Draco fall in love? Will Harry fall for Draco? And why does Voldemort want Harry? Features Seer!Harry.
1. The Secret Admirer

**ENTHRALL  
**By Yih

**Timeline: **This is based _after _the Christmas holidays in their 7th years at Hogwarts. (So we're in the NEWT-prep phase...)

**Note**: Even if you don't read my Paradox series (which is currently around 200,000 words long), you must note that I'm going to be borrowing the veela theory that I've been describing in that. It's a variation of Frizzy's and the hundreds of Harry/Draco veela stories on with a few (new, maybe?) additions of my own. I hope to be original, but if not, perhaps this will be entertaining. If I do that, then I've succeeded in my job as a writer.

Much thanks to **KrysRoz**and **DraconisSenshi**for being my sounding board for this story. I think I spoiled it too much for the latter soul, but it was worth it because now I've got my plot mostly tied down to its foundation!

**Editorial Note:** This is the second revision (thanks to **KrysRoz** for her input and **SeparatriX**, my beta). Also **Short Fat Fag** (who caught my Ron mistake, I must have conveniently forgotten JK Rowling had given Ron a middle name) and **Nate** (who pointed out Snape doesn't write the OWLs). The adjustments are minor, but they are there. If you see any other errors, don't hesitate in which to let me know.

* * *

Chapter 1  
_The Secret Admirer_

**_"You've got a secret admirer." _**

"He's got more than a secret admirer, 'Mione!" Ron exclaimed. "Blimey, he's got a rich secret admirer! Do you know how bloody expensive dragonlily flowers are? And he's got a bleeding dozen of them…"

"I remember," Hermione murmured, getting a far off look to her that Harry knew meant she was recalling something she had read somewhere or possibly heard in lecture, "Professor Snape saying how expensive the dragonlily roots are and that he couldn't afford to waste it on students in our 5th year. It's the reason why we weren't allowed to brew the… the… _Amare__ Caritas Potion_!"

Vaguely Harry had some recollection of hearing Professor Snape gripe about the expenses of certain ingredients for potions that they wouldn't be brewing. The snarky bastard would then go on and on about the uses of the potion. Back then, Harry had been too happily cheering on the idea that there were potions they wouldn't be brewing to really concentrate on the merits of the particular potion. That was what nearly led to his downfall when the OWL examinations came. Snape had decided _not_ to inform them that the obscure potions might pop up on the theory portion.

"The Amare, _what_, Potion?"

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh that intoned every note of her frank disapproval for Ron's academic awareness. Harry still absently wondered as he lightly touched a velvety petal why Hermione was dating Ron. She should be dating someone as brainy as her, though there was the unfortunate problem that there was no one at Hogwarts that was as academically inclined as she was. A few Ravenclaws came close, but still Hermione was by far the smartest witch.

1, 2, 3… "Owe!" Ron cried out. Harry held back a snicker at the perfectly timed thump on the carrot head. "What'd you do that for?" Ron asked, shooting his girlfriend an annoyed look. "It's not like a potion we didn't brew is important…"

Any minute now, Ron was going to get it. He'd committed two of the three cardinal sins in Hermione's handbook of what made a proper Hogwarts student should be. #1, he hadn't remembered something a Professor had stated in class. #2, he'd said a piece of knowledge wasn't worth having. The only sin he hadn't committed was #3, not finishing his homework on time. Neither of them was given much of a chance to break #3; Hermione pestered them too much.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!" Hermione roared, fire spitting out of her eyes. "That is the reason you made such terrible marks in Potions. If you'd but pay attention in class, you'd have done much better on the theoretical part of the examination and you'd be in his NEWT class. Look at Harry," she gestured with a commanding finger, "he's definitely not good at Potions, but he pays attention and manages to scrape by at the NEWT-level." Her teeth were starting to grind together, not a good sign. "By Merlin, I don't know how I put up with a boyfriend like you! You're absolutely hopeless!"

To Harry's disappointment, there was no shin kicking. Hermione settled for grabbing her books and starting to haul her way out of the Great Hall. It was early enough in the morning that not too many of the students were there to witness her outburst. Good news on her part because as Head Girl, she wasn't looking particularly dignified. Just as she was about to leave, she turned around and marched directly back to the table.

Ron looked suitably chastised and she muttered, "For your information, Ronald Weasley, the _Amare__ Caritas_ Potion is a very powerful aphrodisiac that mimics the affect that the presence of a succubus would have on a person." Harry almost felt sympathetic to Ron, but it was his friend's own fault. Ron should have known better than to mess with Hermione when it was only three months until the NEWTs. Last year, she'd already been stressing about it. This year had amplified it, and with the winter holidays safely gone--- it'd only grown exponentially. "Harry," Hermione said abruptly, "let's head to Potions."

It was only 8:30. NEWT-level Potions didn't start until 9:00, but unlike Ron, Harry knew when not to mess with Hermione. He got up out of his seat, grabbed his dragonlilies and his books, and like a good boy trotted meekly after Hermione. Right on cue, Harry heard Ron calling after them, "'Mione? Are you still upset with me? Hermione?"

God, Ron could be such a prat in the mornings.

-

**_"Ugghhh…" Hermione groaned loudly, "why is he such a _**_prat_**_ in the mornings?" _**

Harry shrugged, dropped his books on the floor, and slumped into a comfortable position against the wall, placing his flowers absently on his lap. "Ron's Ron," he answered passively. "You know he's never going to be a great appreciator of knowledge or even books. You can't expect that from him."

Hermione sighed and slid down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I didn't think you were the kind that thirsted after knowledge either, and look how wrong you proved me to be last year!"

She had a good point there. Harry had to admit he hadn't been one of the bookishly inclined students before last year, but that had changed. He'd dug into his books the summer before his 6th year and hadn't really looked back. He'd spent all of 5th year being angry, too angry to think straight, and it had gotten him into a shit of trouble. And then… he'd gone to the Dursleys.

Locked and barred in a room, he'd had nothing to do with himself except think. He thought almost too much, but it was hard not to be hit brutally by the consequences of his rash actions. He had to start thinking, and that was when he'd turned to his books. He not only read through them, but he really read them. He absorbed the knowledge because if he had known more, especially Occlumency, Sirius would not have died needlessly.

He realized his mistake, and had acted accordingly. It hadn't been easy to convince Snape to teach him Occlumency again, not after that pensieve debacle. But somehow, with Dumbledore's interference and his good but not great performance in Potions, he'd managed to make enough of an impression on Snape that he sincerely wished to learn. It hadn't been easy. Snape was a harsh teacher, but he was good.

Harry had mastered Occlumency and he was starting to get good at Legilimency. Unbeknownst to others, it was Snape that was his mentor in his accumulation of knowledge. It was Snape that recommended him which books to read and what spells he ought to know. It was Snape that allowed him to practice and to master them. It was better they didn't know about his special sessions with Snape. What Snape allowed him to learn was dark, sometimes terribly so but as the greasy git snapped, _how do you expect to defeat the Dark Lord with light magic? _

"I grew up," Harry responded lamely, knowing that Hermione was expecting an answer. This wasn't the first time she'd questioned him, and he gave her a variation of the same answer each time. It wasn't a lie. Indeed, it was fully shrouded in truth. But there was more to the equation than just growing up. Harry had always been naturally curious as a child; instead of getting into trouble and mischief, he'd focused it on knowledge.

Hermione snorted. "Do you think Ron will ever grow up?"

"He's going to have to one day," he murmured. "Besides, aren't you placing your bets that he is since you're dating him?"

There was a brief amazement before she laughed helplessly. "I suppose I am."

"Hopefully, when he does," Harry remarked wryly, "even if it doesn't come with a thirst for knowledge, it comes with an appreciation of knowledge."

"I do hope so," she replied wistfully, her eyes crossing over into a dreamy realm where she fantasized about red headed boys. Just as suddenly as she had dazed out of focus, Hermione's eyes refocused upward on him. "Speaking about a thirst for knowledge… aren't you curious about who your secret admirer is?"

Yes and no. Of course, he wanted to know. But at the same time, it was strangely pleasant not to know. If he didn't know who it was, he didn't have to deal with the issue of if the person liking him for him or because of his scar. It let things stand in a nice hazy area of uncertainty. As an unknown, he could imagine anything about the person. No set personality, boundaries, or anything.

"Not really."

She jerked her head away from him and stared at him with narrowing eyes. "Are you sure?" she asked sharply. There was disbelief in her voice, he knew because she knew how damn curious he really was once he'd focused it on the gathering of knowledge. "Because that's not quite like you… not wanting to find things out."

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I hear Snape's coming."

For the second time this morning, she had an exasperated expression. This time it was directed at him. It went without saying that she wasn't done deliberating on who his mysterious admirer was. Knowing Hermione, she was going to go after the identity of this person until she knew who it was and on the way drag him with her. Professor Snape's imminent arrival was only doing to delay the inevitable.

He could only hope she wouldn't remember; fat chance of that happening though.

-

**_"Put away that nauseating display of your fan's infatuation, Mr. Potter,"_** Snape sneered from the front of the classroom. Harry had to remind himself not to wave his hand over the bouquet and shrink it with wandless magic. He doubted that Snape would appreciate other people seeing the evidence of how much he had grown up in the last year. Wandless was extremely rare, and a casual display wasn't something to be careless about. Harry aimed his wand at the dragonlilies and uttered _Reducio_ He placed the shrunken flowers in his pocket.

"Sorry Professor."

"5 points from Gryffindor," Snape snapped, "for your blatant celebrity and get to your seats!" Harry and the rest of the ten students that made up NEWT-level Potions went to their personal workbench. In a change over the previous 5 years of Potions, they no longer had partners. Too often a good partner could make you more capable than you were. In Harry's case, his partners often made him look worse. Only Hermione had ever made him look better. "We will be brewing a new experimental version of the Wolfsbane Potion, which will be tested by a former Defense against the Dark Arts Professor, Remus Lupin. What are you doing, standing there? GET TO WORK!"

Harry had been wondering when they would be brewing that particular potion in class. He knew Snape had finished perfecting it a month or so prior. The new Wolfsbane Potion was definitely an advanced potion, so complicated that Harry was reasonably sure that he'd mess it up. Hermione wasn't exaggerating when she said he had no talent in Potions. How he'd gotten in NEWT-level Potions and managed to scrape by was definitely because of how hard he worked. There was no other reason. He spent more hours on Potions than any of his other classes.

However, he was going to try his best to get it right. Snape hadn't told him too much about the potion, only offering brief updates every now and then to his progress with it. But Remus had told him that the first dose that he'd taken at the last full moon had proven to be miraculous. The potion still tasted like crap, but it made the transformation from werewolf to man painless and it allowed him to retain his human mind fully. The only problem was the potion took forever and a day to brew. Snape didn't have that kind of time, not when he was teaching Potions, spying on the Dark Lord, and privately tutoring Harry.

Harry didn't doubt for a moment that Snape was giving them this potion to make for Remus's benefit. As much as Snape would like to be an evil, cruel git, he simply didn't have a cold enough heart for it. Certainly, his heart wasn't warm--- but it wasn't as icy as he would like everyone to believe. Even though Harry would never like Snape all that much, he had to respect and admire the bastard. Hopefully, Hermione's and Draco's potions would come out right. That would last Remus to the summer when Snape would have more time on his hands.

"Mr. Potter," Snape muttered darkly into his ear, "what are you doing staring into the bottom of your cauldron when you should be working on the potion that will help your werewolf mutt?"

-

**_Potions had been brutal_**_ (they still had two more sessions to go before the Wolfsbane would be done); **Charms hadn't been too bad** (they had to prepare a practical encompassing the latest innovations of the Glamour Charm); **and Defense against the Dark Arts had been good** (the Professor, an Auror taking the year off, was excellent). _Tomorrow was Transfiguration and private lessons with Severus Snape. Thank Merlin he didn't have a double dosage of Snape in a day that was asking for too much from him even if they did get along better this year than last. But the day wasn't done yet. He had private lessons with Daphne Aureole after dinner.

Overall, the day hadn't gone too badly. At lunchtime, Hermione had been distracted making up with Ron to remember about the secret admirer business. Of course, knowing his luck, it'd be brought again at breakfast tomorrow when another token of this person's affection arrived by owlpost. It wasn't a concrete schedule, gifts didn't always arrive daily but the frequency had been increasing in the past month.

_And…_ "Ron," Hermione remarked, "who do you think Harry's secret admirer is?"

Ron's eyes widened, and since he was looking at the direction of the Gryffindor table, Harry assumed that his secret admirer had upped the ante. Ron's eyes wouldn't be going crazy for the food. Glancing over, it was as he thought; a second gift was on the table. Two gifts in a day had never been before. He still didn't understand why though. But he was careful to keep his face blank. What was Snape always telling him? Emotions could be used against you.

At the spot he sat at, there was a silver serpent curled up in a ball watching him. There went his thoughts that whoever his secret admirer was, wasn't a student at Hogwarts. He'd been thinking perhaps the person was a foreigner, or at least someone outside of Hogwarts. This snake clearly narrowed down the field to Hogwarts. Who else would know about that he was a parselmouth? And who the bloody hell knew he was secretively fond of snakes? Not even Hermione or Ron knew that…

It had to be a guess then, and a good guess at that. He looked around the Great Hall, at the cheerful Hufflepuffs, the debating Ravenclaws, and the cunning Slytherins. He could cross a Gryffindor admirer off the list. No Gryffindor would have dared to give him a snake for a gift, and he certainly didn't know anyone rich enough to afford a dozen dragonlilies either. Hufflepuff was out of the question. They simply weren't clever enough to think of such a gift. It was a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin. The question was who?

"Must be a damn Slytherin," Ron muttered in disgust. "Who else would give Harry a snake?"

_Ron and his prejudices_, Harry thought with a sigh, _were never going to change_. Another reason not to tell anyone he liked snakes. Why wouldn't he be? Other than the whole Heir of Slytherin debacle in his 2nd year (and that had been a basilisk, not a snake); there was no reason not to like serpents. After all, he had fond memories of the python at the London Zoo that had scared the pants off Dudley.

"I'm not sure it's really a snake," Hermione replied.

"What do you mean it's not a snake?" Ron retorted. "Everyone with eyeballs can see it's a snake."

"What I mean," she responded patiently, "is that it doesn't quite look like a real, _live _snake. Can't you tell by looking at it? It looks a bit rigid and the scales seem a bit off. I think it's probably animated to look like a snake."

Harry saw what she was saying. The snake was moving, but the tongue flicking was a bit too slow to be that of a real snake and the gleam that was coming off it scale had too much of a sheen to it. Getting closer, he concluded that it was an ingenuous piece of craftsmanship though. At a fair distance, it was easy to mistake the silver snake for a real one.

_Master…_

He blinked. Parseltongue from an animated silver ornament that was supposed to look like a snake was very strange. Who ever had make it had to have been a Master Silversmith. He reached down to trace his finger over its silver head and down it glistening body. Just as he thought, it looked real but it felt like silver.

"Don't touch it!" Ron snapped, but Hermione shot her boyfriend a dark look.

"Ignore him," Hermione retorted. She turned back, watching the snake's response to Harry's touch with the eagerness of a scientist investigating a new experiment. "So am I right?"

Harry nodded. "I think so…"

Unexpectedly, the silver snake unraveled from its ball and latched itself around Harry's wrist with such speed that he could only watch as it looped itself several time. "What the hell?" He heard Hermione's startled rhetoric.

"That's not only a snake," Ron's voice was biting, "that's a promise bracelet."

"A WHAT?!" Hermione and Harry both said, though she was far more vocal than he was.

"It's a promise bracelet," Ron repeated warily, sitting down and thumping his head on the table. "I told Harry not to touch it. Of course, I didn't think it was anything like that. As Harry is effectively wearing the bracelet, he's now promised himself to someone. The brilliant thing is, the person disguised it so well and we don't know who the hell she is."

_Who sent you?_ Harry asked the snake, causing both Hermione and Ron to jump.

_Your secret admirer. _

Harry sighed. "The snake doesn't know."

"Don't do that!" Ron cried out. "It's creepy when you're talking like a serpent just like…"

"_You Know Who_?" Hermione finished dryly. "I'll admit it's startling when he's speaking parseltongue, but if the snake has the answer I don't see why he can't use his abilities as a parselmouth to find out. Just because _You Know Who_ is a parselmouth doesn't make that a dark art, Ron Weasley!"

Ron had the decency to look ashamed. "Sorry," he muttered, "it's just… I don't know."

Her smile was weak, but it was enough to give Ron a big hint that she wasn't upset with him. Harry was glad that the direction of the conversation hadn't been steered into another spat. He didn't know how many arguments they could have in one day and still manage to stay together. Thank Merlin! Hermione was deciding not to push the issue as she could have. Ron might start things, but Hermione definitely knew how to push all the wrong buttons. Without the sniping, they made a good couple.

"You know," Hermione murmured, "you could scry for the identity of your admirer."

Harry shrugged. "You know how hard it is for me to control my visions, even now with Daphne as my guide. And all seers have a problem with seeing things having to do with themselves."

"But you aren't necessarily looking into _your_ future," she protested. "It's sort of like looking into a dual future, and some seers can do that can't they? Determine their futures with certain people?"

"Only the strongest of seers can do that."

"Well," Ron inputted, "doesn't Daphne Aureole say you're the best natural seer born in the last century?"

"Seers tend to exaggerate."

"Whatever the case may be," Hermione remarked, "you have something that involves both you and the other person." She gestured to the silver snake. "You are also a natural seer, and you're going to see your guide tonight." The smile on her face was positively Granger. "Doesn't that mean the stars are aligning themselves to find the identity of this mystery person out?"

Hermione still had a great misconception of divination and it was Sibyl Trelawney's fault.

-

**_His power was his downfall and his greatest asset,_**_ Daphne told him_. It made him a formidable wizard in his own right, though he was never going to be in Dumbledore's or Voldemort's range. His gifts laid elsewhere. His sheer power made it hard for him to control the intensity of his visions. Under Daphne's guidance, he still got lost in his visions, but she was always able to reach into the astral plane and pull him out.

No one realized for years that his visions of Voldemort were from foresight rather than the misconceived connection from the scar. It wasn't until Daphne stumbled upon him on the astral plane, wandering around lost in the throes of what he thought were his nightmares that everyone realized what his dreams really were. **Visions**.

Other seers (the few that could walk the astral plane) never saw him because he was trapped so deeply in his vision that they probably thought he was a spirit wrestling with his past. In all of Daphne's years (and she was quite old even though she didn't necessarily look all her years), she had never come across an untrained seer being able to cross into the astral plane. Even she hadn't been able to, and she was hailed as the greatest seer in Europe.

It was the scar, she said, that gave her his identity. _The Boy Who Lived_. She found him at Hogwarts and demanded to be his guide into the Arts of Divination. Albus Dumbledore, for once in his life, was surprised. He'd never recognized Harry Potter as a natural seer. Sibyl Trelawney was outraged that she wouldn't be guiding Harry Potter as the Divinations Professor, even though she'd never recognized him as having the sight. How could she? She wasn't even a natural seer. She was a seer, but she wasn't a natural seer. She had been trained to see and thus had some sight. Natural seers controlled the sight. When they called for it, it came.

"Harry," Daphne snapped, "Harry!" He heard her voice, far away from the grey mist he was drifting in. The astral plane was silent today, eerie. Lifeless. He'd been thinking hard, staring at the silver snake until he had felt his spirit leave his body to be drawn to where the answer laid. But there was nothing there to see. It was the first time he'd utterly failed to call up some sight when he'd aimed to receive. "NOW HARRY!"

His body jerked and his head began to throb. It was always the same. Whenever he tried to enter the astral plane, he returned with his head aching. Daphne told him it would get better in time, but in the last year of astral plane jumping it didn't seem to get any better. It only seemed to get worse. He groaned his thanks when he felt her shove a bottle of painkilling potion into his hand.

"What did you see?" she asked bluntly.

"Nothing."

"If you saw nothing," Daphne retorted, "you'd be blind." He nearly hated how right she was. "Now, tell me what you saw."

He related what he saw with painstaking detail. It wasn't that he was particularly sharp at details, but she was. She made him consider everything he said until she was satisfied that she had pulled as much of what he'd seen as could be had. There was a reason she was touted as being the greatest seer in Europe, and the fact she had deemed him worthy of her guidance told him of his seer potential. Daphne Aureole was extraordinary.

"I think that someone is blocking you."

"Isn't that impossible?" Harry responded. "I thought when the sight came, it's always _true_."

"True to the moment you envisioned it," she corrected. "Prophecies can be changed, but rarely are they. They have a tendency of staying put mostly if the seer is especially talented at seeing the most probable outcome. While seers may see true, that doesn't mean they can't be blocked. It's just you've never had a problem with it. Most _other_ seers are blocked by their own inability. You, from what you've told me, and from what I saw in the astral plane were being blocked by someone."

"Who?"

"Who do you _feel _that it was?"

He shuddered. "Voldemort."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I think I'm crazy. I know that in the back of my head that I've always wanted to do a Harry/Draco veela story (with a twist, who doesn't want a bloody twist?) and so I've done it. But my plotbunnies usually tend to die soon after I write the first chapter. A good sign I'll continue a story is if I get past the chapter 5 to 6 stage, so until we make it past that stage… anything goes. I'm working on chapter 2 right now so it should be out pretty soon (if it isn't out before my orgo test the first week of October it won't be out until after). Anyway, how do you like this story? Obviously, you know who the secret admirer is but how's everything else? Do you like Harry as a seer? What do you think of Daphne Aureole? Also… did I mention without reviews my muse tends to starve? So be a kind soul and click the "go" button to feed her please! _Also_, the second chapter is done and getting looked over by a friend (hopefully I'll wait long enough so I can do the revision before I post it).

**TBC **(as soon as you feed the muse)


	2. The Game Begins

**ENTHRALL  
**By Yih

**Note**: About the "scar connection" bit, I didn't mean the scar isn't a connection to Voldemort just to the visions. I.E. Everyone thought the scar was the reason Harry has visions, but it's not. It's because he's a natural seer and he dreams true. However, the scar still does connect Voldemort to Harry and that is why Harry feels pain from it. More explanation will be in the story later on about that when we get more into it. So please be patient.

**POV Note:** This is in Draco's POV.

Thanks to _KrysRoz_ and _DraconisSenshi_, both of whom have been offering their insight and wonderful opinions. And to my beta, **SeparatriX**. This is Revision #1.

* * *

Chapter 2  
_The Game Begins_

**_The pieces were laid_**. Now they only had to be moved. Then Harry Potter would be his. _Patience though_, Draco reminded himself. It wouldn't do to move too early, especially since everything had been in careful planning for the last year or so. To ruin things now, after all that hard work would be stupidly worthy of a Gryffindor and not a Slytherin. Draco still didn't understand why Voldemort wanted Harry Potter, but what his Lord wanted his Lord would get.

There were worse things than taking the Boy Who Lived as his mate. Other choices were more preferential, but as a veela he would naturally dominate his mate. He very much liked the idea of Harry Potter being submissive to him. It also didn't hurt that Potter wasn't hard on the eyes, easily a thousand galleons better than the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson. Draco shuddered to think of being forced to choose her, to turn on his veela charms for her? A retching tragedy.

The silver serpent bracelet had suited Potter. Draco had found amongst the family jewels in their Gringotts vault during the Christmas vacation. He hadn't been planning on giving it to Potter so soon, but the Dark Lord had moved up his timetable. Accordingly, Draco had adjusted his. He'd gotten rid of a few intermediate moves and progressed to the next major one. The promise bracelet had a binding charm the prevented Potter from getting into any entanglements with anyone else. It kept him innocent until Draco wanted to make his move. Too bad it didn't ensure Potter's previous sexual experience. Draco found he quite like the idea of Potter being pure, but he'd take keeping him celibate for a while. So what to send Potter tomorrow?

_Something simple_, he decided. A dozen dragonlilies and a promise bracelet were enough extravagance for one day. But simplicity didn't mean that it had to be simple necessarily. His mother was quite fond of simple elegance. Yes, that was what he'd send Potter tomorrow. Something was simple yet elegant. He might be hiding his identity, but he strangely wanted Potter to have a good opinion of his taste in gifts.

Coming up with creative gifts was getting harder and harder, especially as he wanted to keep his identity shrouded in secrecy. It was even better if he made the gender of who was giving the gifts ambiguous. He had, he daresay, succeeded because in any offhand remark he caught, Weasel was always thinking it was a 'she.' Should he be offended about the assault to his masculinity? Weasel probably would, but he was confident in his good taste.

An idea came to him. Summer was approaching. There was one thing that always reminded him the beauty that was summer. And Potter's eyes were so green _and _vibrant that it reflected the life of those months too well. He knew exactly what to send now.

Whatever would Potter think?

-

**_Breakfast was his least favorite part of the day_**. For one thing, it was too damn early in the morning. He always needed more time than he gave himself to get ready. As it was, he'd rushed through his grooming a bit more than he liked but he wanted to make sure he was there to see Potter's initial reaction to nothing being on the table (which hadn't happened in a week) and then his later reaction when he received his latest gift.

Potter was utterly predictable. Draco had gotten good at reading his facial expressions, or else he would have that Potter looked the same as always. Draco did have to admit that Potter was getting frightfully good at the detached, passive look. Unfortunately, Draco knew how to read them. Once he'd spent more time studying Potter, he could read the young man almost as well as he could read his father. It was essential to know when Lucius Malfoy's indifferent look was aggravated or amused. Not that his father would ever physically hurt him, but having him displeased with him was not a good thing. The uncanny ability proved invaluable with Voldemort. You definitely wanted to read their Lord's moods. No wonder his father was their Lord's right hand man.

There was only the slightest indication that Potter was disappointed. It was in the barely detectable slump in his shoulders and the way he wasn't listless in a distracted manner. He was listless in a despondent way, not that there was that much difference to the unexceptional observer. But there was noticeable perk to Potter's being when Bellona, Draco's fierce gyrfalcon swooped down and dropped a scroll in front of him.

Draco couldn't hear what the mudblood or the Weasel was saying, but he imagined they were devoutly curious in what the scroll contained. He was sure the mudblood would appreciate it, and it would certainly throw her off. He wondered if Potter was going to have to get it explained to him. Merlin, he hoped not. He really didn't want to think he was going to be mated with a crass, uncultured young man. There was only so much he could stand. Being a bloody noble Gryffindor was enough, thank you very much.

The scroll was opened, Draco saw, and while Potter read it--- he recited in his head the sonnet he'd sent:

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? _  
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:  
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;  
And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;  
But thy eternal summer shall not fade  
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;  
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,  
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:  
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,  
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee._

**"Sonnet 18,"** William Shakespeare

It was in the actions that Draco knew Potter appreciated it. It was in the way he wrapped the parchment carefully and placed it atop his books. It was in the way he didn't share it with the others, even though Draco knew they must have been pestering him. How Potter could stand to have friends that nagged at him all the time, he didn't know. Then again, it probably was nice to have friends that had a brain. Sometimes silence and stupidity was not a good mix.

So Potter liked the sonnet, treasured even if keeping it close to his chest was any indication. Now the question was, did he get the symbolism of the poem? It was a simple lyric poem by any standard, but the embedded meaning was more than a simple praise to a beloved. Of course, he wouldn't. He didn't know who it was from, and who that person was serving. If he did, then he'd know he had nothing to fear from Voldemort.

-

**"_Mutare!_" **_Draco exclaimed_. His rat, for McGonagall refused to subjugate cats to the odious process of being transfigured from a living object to one that non-living variety, wasn't cooperating much with him. He wasn't very good at Transfiguration, and again he wondered why he'd decided to go into the NEWT-level class. He had as much natural ability in it as Potter had in Potions.

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall commented sharply, ranging up on his failed attempt with a gleam in her beady eyes that Draco despised, "you need to _imagine _the rat changing not only in form but in substance matter. You've got to think you're changing it from something living to something non-living. If you don't, you can't hope to succeed, can you?"

He gritted his teeth together, but he knew better than to make a snappy retort. Severus might appreciate his wit; McGonagall wouldn't. As fair as she tried to make herself out to be, she was still notoriously Gryffindor favoring. Instead, he tilted his wand again to the rat and repeated, "_Mutare!" _

Something happened this time. The rat didn't quite look quite so of the living anymore. It looked a bit petrified actually. He heard McGonagall make an aggrieved sound before calling, "Ms. Granger, would you come over here please and demonstrate to Mr. Malfoy how to do this transfiguration spell properly?"

The mudblood witch came over, and the only thing Draco could be grateful for was that she didn't have a superior look on her face. She was concentrating too much. It was bad enough that she was going to demonstrate to Draco how to do it right. This was embarrassing as it was, having a mudblood teach him how to do a bloody spell whether it was his worst subject _or _not.

"_Mutare!_" Granger murmured. For a moment, nothing happened and Draco was almost attempted to throw a derisive comment at her. Thank Merlin he didn't, because a moment later the rat abruptly changed into a very dead object. A wooden rat. "Not too bad, Professor McGonagall?" Why was the damn mudblood always looking for approval? She'd done the spell right, did she need to rub it in?

"Very nicely done, Ms. Granger," McGonagall commended. "It was a bit slow in the transfiguration, but you did succeed from going to the living to the non-living and keeping the shape exactly the same. However, next time you might want to try something other than wood. Wood was once living, so it's not quite as non-living as I would like to see."

"I understand, Professor McGonagall," she responded. "Do you need another demonstration?" Draco shook his head curtly, and he was only too glad to see the mudblood bint go back to her worktable next to his mate, what?! Potter wasn't his mate yet; he was going to be… but he certainly wasn't his mate yet!

"Now, let's see you try the spell again, Mr. Malfoy."

He really hated this class, and he hated Potter's friends. He was going to derive an excessive amount of pleasure in ripping Potter away from them, and then maybe even getting him to torture them. Draco smirked. Maybe not the mudblood, he didn't quite hate her just resented her, but the Weasel most definitely. There was no one he hated more than that red-headed moron.

"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall snapped. "The spell?"

He jerked his wand and shouted, "_Mutare!" _

-

**_At dinner, he sent Potter nothing_**. Draco had pondered with the merit through his Arimancy class, but he decided not to. He hadn't come up with a good enough idea, and he hated to ruin the sheer brilliance of his last few with something inferior. Instead, he settled for devouring Potter's searching eyes as it sought some babble from his mysterious admirer.

"What are you looking at Draco?"

Pansy Parkinson was the most annoying bint ever. Even the Granger mudblood had nothing on Pansy Parkinson. It was one of the few times when thinking about Potter becoming his mate looked like an excellent idea. He grimaced, pulling a charming smile on his face. It was bad if Pansy was noticing something off about his behavior. Pansy wasn't only ugly, she was almost as dumb as Crabbe and Goyle.

"Nothing much."

"It looks like you were looking at the Gryffindor table," she murmured.

If he was being that obvious about his Potter watching such that she noticed the direction of his gaze, that was bad. The easy thing about correcting his blunder was if he flirted with Pansy, she tended to get lost in the wonder of it that she couldn't use what miniscule thinking skills she did have. So he turned on the charm, his veela thrall, and watched her eyes become utterly dazed. He was careful not to amplify them too much, only a little bit was needed with her, since he didn't want to have the whole Slytherin table ogling him.

"Draco, you have eyes that are like drops of silver."

He'd learn his lesson very well the day of his 16th birthday when he'd not quite been able to control his veela thrall and had gotten assaulted by Crabbe and Goyle. If it was not for Blaise's and Theodore's quick thinking, he'd have been raped. He grimaced at the unpleasant memory. After Blaise and Theodore had helped him, he'd found out later it was for an ulterior purpose. They hadn't wanted to share him with his two brain dead minions. But he'd manage to petrify both of them and climb into the relative safety of his heavily warded bed.

"Your hair is like moonlight."

Luckily, the next day was a weekend and he'd been whisked away by his parents to Malfoy Mansion where they kept him for a month until he gained enough control over his thrall that he didn't make the house elves crazy with lust. Draco didn't know what excuse for his absent his parents had sent, but he didn't care. He might have had quite a bit of sexual experience before he came into his veela inheritance, but he knew better than to have any sort of physical relationship afterwards. That sort of activity was limited to his future mate. Unfortunately, he'd also discovered during that time it was going to be Harry Potter. That had been one birthday present he could have done without.

"You are the sexiest Slytherin ever."

At least, Potter figured to be a challenge to seduce. Draco liked challenges; he was driven by them. If life ceased to be demanding, it would be very boring. Why people wanted a happy and peaceful life eluded him. That would be the epitome of boredom. And while he had full confidence his veela thrall would entrap Potter, he figured getting Potter to obey him would be a bit of a challenge if Potter really could throw up the _Imperius Curse_ as his father had warned him. It was too bad that unlike his thrall he couldn't test his veela dominance on others. It only worked on his mate.

"Draco," Pansy's hands were creeping up his thigh, "do you want meet me in the Astronomy Tower after dinner?"

Certain that she'd been thoroughly distracted, he dropped his smile and reined his thrall in, and snapped, "Why would I ever want to go to the Astronomy Tower with a pug-face clinging bitch like you?"

-

**_He ran into Potter heading to the dungeons, probably going to extra tutorial sessions in Potions with Severus._** What Draco didn't understand was why his godfather even allowed Potter to be his NEWT-level Potions class if he was going to need extra tutoring to even survive the class. It was Dumbledore's doing. It stunk of it. Why did everyone think a mere boy who had somehow survived the Avada Kedavra Curse was the last great hope? It was an awful burden to put on someone that young. Draco didn't envy Potter that.

"Potter," he sneered, "off to the dungeons to save your pitiful ass from failing out of Potions?"

He was good, very good at getting underneath Potter's skin. There was visible tensing of his rival's shoulders and a narrowing of his bright eyes. Now, what would be fun to see was how good he was into getting into Potter's pants. Wouldn't Potter hate that? That he would _need _Draco, _crave _Draco's touch.

"Bugger off, Malfoy."

"Such an original comeback."

Ah, yes the fierce green glare was directed at him. "Malfoy…"

"You are becoming as vocal as your Weasel."

"Malfoy…, don't call him that."

"I can him call whatever I choose to," Draco declared. His eyes trailed up and down Potter's form, thinking once again that his chosen mate could have been much worse. Somehow in the last year or so, Potter had grown up and filled out. The Gryffindor was still shorter than him, but he wasn't as scrawny as he had been before. No, Harry Potter would do quite nicely. "So who gave you that bracelet, Potter? Another one of your legion of fans?"

Potter pursed his lips. Draco noted he had the type of lips that begged to be kissed. "None of your bloody business, Malfoy."

"Is it a crime to be curious?"

He was making Potter grind his teeth, lovely. "Why do you torment me?"

Because _it was fun_, not that he would tell Potter that. So what to say…

"Mr. Potter," Severus always had excellent timing, "you are here to be helped, do not try my patience in loitering in the hallway." Great entrance, too. "Draco?" Draco turned to his godfather with all the traces of sneer wiped off his face. "Your father sent an urgent owl to me for you. It's waiting in your room."

Draco knew what it was, and from the gleam in Severus's eyes, his godfather knew too.

-

**_Enyo, his father's favorite messenger, a tawny owl was perched on the headboard looking perceptive as always_**. Draco swore that Enyo had to have more than the spirit of an owl in his body because Enyo was too clever. Currently, Enyo was staring at his journal where he'd absently scribbled some his future ideas for when the seduction of Potter would begin.

He whistled and Enyo raised her elegant head. He held out his arm, and she flew toward it and dug her claws into his flesh. Lucky for him, his robes were warded to prevent any tearing or ripping and protected him from injury as well. "So Enyo, what do you have for me?"

She raised the leg which the message was tied to and he took it from her. She nipped him affectionately on the ear before flying back and settling back into the positions he had been in. She gave him a pointed look then she proceeded to groom herself. Draco knew that meant she had been told to wait for a response. He might as well get it over with. His father look indifferent, but he wasn't a very patient wizard.

_Draco, my son and heir,_

_The time has come for you to act. You have told me of what you have done so far, and you probably have succeeded in throwing Harry Potter into a loop of confusion. No doubt, he probably has fond thoughts of his **secret admirer, **and will be even more befuddled when he learns that it is really you. _

_Our Lord has been patient in waiting for your powers to grow, as he knows that even though veelas come into their thrall at 16, it doesn't strengthen to its full height of power until later. You now should be able to entrap Potter as your mate without too much difficulty. If you should run into some problems, owl me immediately. _

_I hope you realize that our Lord doesn't want it to be known that you are being commanded to seduce Potter. It would be best if the illusion of veelas being led by their 'nose' to their mate was believed. The many myths of how a veela knows who their mate is would come in handy. Luckily, no one really knows the truth in the matter, eh? Such rules don't apply to wizards with veela blood. _

_The thought that veelas are dominated by their mate is another silly rumor that we can use to our advantage. You may pretend to be led by Potter for a while, but I fully expect you to have Potter underneath your control by the summer holidays in which you both will be coming to __Malfoy__Mansion__. I assume that the several weeks you have until then will prove sufficient? _

Draco snorted. He didn't think it would take more than maybe two weeks to have Potter bound to him, if even that long. But he did have to go about it in a rather less than pleasing manner. Letting Potter believe he was his soulmate and that he was madly in love with him? The thought was laughable.

_And Draco, it wouldn't hurt for you to be cautious with your feelings toward Potter. As detestable as it might sound, you know that even though wizards with veela blood are given the choice of whom to enthrall, it doesn't mean that we are any less susceptible to the allure of our mate. Yes, you will wield power over Potter and you will be the dominant in the relationship, but that doesn't mean Potter won't have some power over you. He will, and if he's smart he'll know how to make the best use of it. It is **to** **your **advantage to have Potter fall madly for you. There is no doubt that you will fall madly for him. The question is if he will fall more for you than you do for him. _

_Your father,_

_Lucius Malfoy._

He was going to have to start thinking of Potter as Harry, wasn't he?

* * *

**Author's Note:** My muse deeply appreciates being fed! She tells me that she's very grateful for the wonderful responses, and she's diligently spinning ideas for Chapter 4. Currently (yes I'm ahead), I'm working on Chapter 4 and putting the final touches on Chapter 3. I've already gotten feedback from my pre-reader and will be working out any of the kinks that might arise (Chapter 4 might change Chapter 3 a bit). Keep up the feedback and I'll try to write as much as I can before I have to start studying like crazy for orgo this weekend.

Also, so what do you think of Draco and my version of a veela? Obviously, some of it is different and just want feedback if you like the change I've done (wizard with veela blood is different from a true wholly veela). There's more stuff on it in later chapters, but the general explanation is in this chapter. I'm afraid this is a tad boring, but hopefully not too boring?

**Beta Request:** I need a good and a fast beta (i.e. If I write in a chapter in two days, you should be able to beta in one day). The only thing I can offer is you get to read the chapters first! Leave your email and any "references" (other beta work you've done) before. I'd prefer an experience beta that can help me with plot too. Also, I need someone who's good at feedback.

Thanks to **pls** (I did try really hard to keep them IC), Beth, riantlykalopsic, GentleWaterSoul, **Nate** (thanks, I corrected it!), Agnei Smith, **SheWolfe7** (Keep wondering about Voldie), kdalemama, **Ganymade** (Well, I'm first and foremost a HP/SS shipper, then HP/LM, HP/LV and lastly HP/DM), marishamarish, akki, Vicous Pixie, chibi-Seto-kaiba, Shadowface, **Angelous999** (you're right about it's more than Harry you're my mate, good insight!), **pussbb** (keyboard, I almost never write by hand), **CrimsonTearsofPain** (I didn't want to start out like every veela fic out there), Theoddguy, Katrina, MystWynd, **anguis** (more about seers later), zoomaphonethepirate, **TigerBlak** (will try, looks like it's heading there), NymphGirl, **Enivrement** (god I need to review your "Six Feet Cold" story, it's BLOODY AWESOME :p), Rchan2, hypteractivatoragain, adia, **destruction's mistress** (since you said please…), aikidobrat, kamui5, **Night** (Harry's grown up a lot), Makalani Astral, Emerald T. Virginia Riddle-Malfoy, Yana5, ironic-humour, California smells funny, **Spideria** (I'll try), **Echelon** (I thought it moved too slow, thanks for telling me it's too fast), **sak** (scar explanation is above, I hope that explains it, it's still a V connection), firefairy, **Lakoma** (it was a long first chapter, don't complain), LMG, Eponine, **NettieT** (Daphne will round out, her role is more significant later, this isn't only a veela story), **Kit** (you spelled intriguing right, thanks for the props on originality. I hate being unoriginal, but some clichés I probably won't be able to escape), Losing Grip, tinkita, Naia, LilBlackNiteCat, SweetPea-Fairy, **chocolatedemon** (I won't rush the H/D… I think MOP proves I can move really slow, excruciatingly slow), cardboardboxkid, redredredred, **deliolith** (thanks), angelkitty77, wufei winner, Ash, **Kathy stgqvk** (the question of allegiance is a very good one, we'll see), silvrfire, Emily22, **Short Fat Fag** (thanks for the correction. It's from Harry's POV, and right now he's not thinking about Dumbledore. Dumbledore will come up… eventually), agge, **Selune** (I try to be different. –muse gobbles food-), Kitta Baby, **athenakitty** (1. No. 2. Yes. 3. Who knows? 4. You'll see), and Gia.

**TBC** (as soon as you click "go" and feed the muse)


	3. Under the Thrall

**ENTHRALL  
**By Yih

**Beta: **_SeparatriX_ (thanks to her this chapter is about as good grammar and word construction wise as it's probably gonna get!)

**POV Note:** Back to Harry's.

* * *

Chapter 3  
_Under the Thrall_

**_"Your secret admirer is certainly keeping busy," _**_Hermione remarked._

Hedwig dropped a single red rose tied to a scroll in front of Harry. He grabbed it without thinking; it was one of his seeker reflexes that Ron kept telling him was going to get him on one of the professional teams after he left Hogwarts. As much as he enjoyed Quidditch, he didn't really want to spend his life playing it. Being an Auror would have been all right, but thankfully Daphne had found him and was determined to make a seer out of him.

"So what does it say?" Ron pestered.

He hadn't even opened it yet. Sometimes, it was aggravating how annoying Ron could be. But Harry reminded himself that Ron was a good friend, no a _great_ friend. And yet there were times when Ron could be such a prat, and like Hermione was always saying: _Why **is** Ron such a prat in the mornings? _

"Hold up," Harry mumbled.

Obligingly, he held up an owl treat that he had in his pocket to Hedwig and she hooted appreciatively. She rubbed her beak against his knuckle affectionately before she flew back to the owlery. Turning his attention back to the scroll, he pulled the rose free from it and smelled its sweet scent. He ignored Ron's gargling urgings for speed. It was his owl after all; he would read it at his leisure.

He opened the parchment and the first thing that caught his attention was the elegant hand. _Whoever had written this had bloody good penmanship_, Harry thought. And finally, the mystery person was ready to stop being a secret. Harry started down at the letter for a long time, even though he could hear Ron nagging him about the owl and Hermione telling him to let Harry be.

"Earth to Harry!"

Ron was being himself. It was his nature to be a pest in the mornings. "My secret admirer wants to meet me," Harry reluctantly admitted, bracing himself for the reaction that he knew was forthcoming.

"What?!" Harry had a hard time telling if the exclamation was coming more from Ron or Hermione, both of them had said it almost simultaneously.

There was nothing to do but hand them the parchment. They both pulled it between them and read the words that were on constant repeat in Harry's head: _It's time we met, you and I. Tonight, __midnight__Astronomy__Tower_

Neville would be pleased. He'd always said from the beginning that Harry Potter's admirer was a Hogwarts student.

-

**_Harry had always liked Professor Flitwick._** The diminutive Professor had a charisma that far surpassed his stature. There was something about the way he was that so alive and fascinating. It wasn't for any reason that the NEWT-level Charms class was by far the largest, large enough that Harry was sitting on the floor because he'd gotten there late and all the desks had been taken.

It was just as well, he was near the back of the room and away from Flitwick's notice. He was too distracted by the owl he'd received this morning to really concentrate on anything. Snape had already verbally assaulted his person. He'd deserved almost every word. He'd been a miserably clumsy sod today. At least it'd given Snape a good excuse to give him detention for the remainder of this week and all of next.

All his detentions were a decent cover-up for the extra studies he'd been doing in the evenings with Daphne and Snape. Daphne had certainly surprised Dumbledore in telling him point blank that Harry was a natural seer, but she didn't want others to know. He'd only told Ron and Hermione. Of course, the teachers knew, and Harry guessed that Voldemort also knew.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed. He snapped his head toward her and saw an alarmed expression on her face. "Duck!"

He didn't question her; he ducked. He felt something very hard and quite large sailing over his head. He heard it smash against the wall and then fall to the ground. He turned his head and saw that it'd been a thick tome. Confused momentarily, he then vaguely recalled hearing Flitwick lecturing about theoretical merits of being directionally specific when using the _Throwing Charm_. Otherwise, it would just sort throw itself anywhere.

"I'm sorry, Harry!"

Harry nodded, recognizing the voice of Terry Boot. "It's all right."

"And that is why," Flitwick remarked, his usually merry eyes studying Harry curiously, "you want to be directionally specific when you cast that particular charm." Harry knew it was because it was odd for him not to be paying attention in class, especially in _this _class, the class he _excelled at. _"So would anyone like to tell me why you should be person specific when you're using the _Summoning Charm_?"

Hermione's hand shot up like always, but several other 7th year Ravenclaws weren't far behind.

-

**_He wasn't seeing shit in the water._** It was a pity; he was best at scrying with water or a mirror. While he wasn't terrible with tea leaves, certainly better than Sibyl Trelawney, it didn't mean that was his particular medium. He did best with objects that offered depths, Daphne told him, it was harder to see visions in them but the payoff was far greater if one could see true with them. He could, but not today.

"You aren't concentrating," Daphne snapped. "Where's your mind today, Harry?"

_On other things_, he thought glumly. "Sorry."

"This is a waste of my time," she muttered. "I didn't come to Hogwarts to instruct you only to have you **not **pay attention to me. I thought I had it from your own lips," she pressed her fingers his mouth, "that you would try harder for me than anyone else you'd ever tried for if I agreed to be your guide."

He had sworn he would give her everything she required. Hermione hadn't needed to impress upon him too hard what an honor Daphne Aureole was bestowing upon him by being his guide. He might be famous for an accident of circumstance, but she was famous for her own abilities. She only guided the best, and it was flattering for once to be considered for his merit.

"You're dismissed. I don't want to see you again until you're ready to focus. Do you understand me?" Daphne's voice was reproachful and had a hard edge to it as she stared down at him like a hawk that had spotted her prey.

"I understand," Harry responded softly. "I'll be ready for next time."

She cupped his chin and tilted his face upward until her old silver eyes could bear down into his. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She nodded and traced the sign of the seer against his forehead. "I would be on guard, Harry. What you're about to face cannot be changed, but if you're wise you'll make the best of it."

"You did a reading on me?"

"I did." She smiled faintly. "You can't, can you? The curse of a seer, you're never able to see what involves one's self. Be wary and be wise, Harry."

He pressed a kiss into her wrinkled hand. "I'll try."

-

**_He was purposely early, but not early enough._** There was already someone standing there, waiting. All he saw was a black robe clad back, so not only could he not distinguish gender--- he couldn't figure out the House either. He was almost tempted to turn away and walk out. If he didn't know the identity of his secret admirer, then the person would always maintain a surreal quality. He didn't leave though. That wouldn't be very noble or brave of him. As Slytherin as the hat might have thought him, he was still a Gryffindor too.

"It's usually polite to announce one's presence," the robed figured drawled.

Harry knew that voice. It couldn't be… but it was. Draco Malfoy. Once he saw the face, there was no denying that Malfoy was the owner of that voice. Was this a bloody joke? It was hard, terribly hard to keep his face schooled into one of indifference. What he wanted to do was betray his anger, his confusion, and his disappointment. Was this Malfoy's idea of a sick joke?

"Malfoy."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think we're past the formalities of surnames?"

"What are you playing at?" Harry demanded.

"Do you think I'm playing with your heart?" Malfoy whispered. "What if I'm not?"

What if he wasn't? Harry narrowed his eyes and studied the expression on Malfoy's face, trying to tell if he was being sincere or not. Draco Malfoy was a master of manipulating his emotions, much like his father. Harry knew he was good at reading people, but that meant nothing when it came to Malfoy. He had nothing to go with but gut. His instincts were good most of the time, so what did his intuition say?

"I don't see why you wouldn't be." Harry refused to meet Malfoy's gaze.

"Is it hard to imagine someone changing? Growing up?" Malfoy lifted Harry's chin and forced him to look directly into his eyes.

Harry recoiled from his touch. No, it wasn't hard to imagine someone growing up. They were in the age of development, were they not? Once they got past the anger, the bitterness, and all that young rebelliousness, they had to grow up. But when Harry thought of Malfoy growing up, he didn't think in terms of him ever being civil to him. And this offering of the olive branch went far beyond mere politeness, Malfoy was insinuating he _liked _him, perhaps even _wanted _him.

"No," Harry murmured, "what is hard to imagine is that you would ever feel anything positive toward me."

There was something in Malfoy's silver eyes, something that Harry didn't recognize. "Is love really so different from hate?"

An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of Harry's stomach, and something was telling him that he might want to run. But stupidly, his feet wouldn't move even when Malfoy came close, much too close. "Are you saying…" his tongue twisted over that preposterous word, and he felt foolish to even be saying it, "that you love me?"

Malfoy's lips tugged into a smile that was more beautiful than it should have been. Harry mentally recoiled at having _a thought _like that. When had he ever thought Malfoy was anything other than an aggravating git? He had **no **redeeming qualities whatsoever unlike Snape. At least Snape was trying to help him shield his mind from Voldemort; even if his method for doing so was invasive and unethical. What kindness had Malfoy ever shown?

The gifts? They were a lure, a trick, a lie.

"Hmmm…" Malfoy's hand reached out and Harry instinctively backed up until he hit the wall, "that is an interesting question for me to answer, is it not?" What was Malfoy playing at? It was time, past time to end this joke. "I think you'd like an answer, wouldn't you?" Harry was paralyzed as Malfoy's hand touched his cheek gently. It was the touch that stunned him more than Malfoy's answer: "Not yet, but one day I will."

Too many questions were running in Harry's head, racing in his pulse, and he was drowning in silver liquid. Malfoy's touch had started to burn. It was anything akin to pain, but it made Harry feel uncomfortable. He must be losing his mind. There was only one word to name this feeling he was experiencing. It was desire, and it wasn't mild. It was hot, and it had come in a rush. It was like he was under a compulsion that had nothing to do with him.

"What are you doing to me?" he asked hoarsely.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Malfoy purred.

He should have run when he had the chance. It was too late now. His mind was screaming for his body to move, but his muscles weren't cooperating. It was like he was underneath the _Stupefy_ spell, but he'd not heard it cast. It wasn't like Malfoy was holding him against his will. He just couldn't move. And when he was finally able to move, it wasn't in the way he should have if he had any sanity in him.

_This wasn't happening_, he chanted, _this wasn't happening_. Malfoy hadn't just lowered his head. Malfoy hadn't just brushed his lips against Harry's with a softness that he didn't know Malfoy possessed. Malfoy hadn't just kissed him, had he? He wanted to deny what was undeniable. Malfoy was kissing him. His lips were on his, and his arms were around him. This was insanity.

Harry was responding, to his own surprise. It took a moment to register that when he did feel himself moving, it was to fit his body against Malfoy's and open his mouth in offering. He felt like he had no control, but he was doing this. There was no spell on him. Only part of him was protesting, but it was the part he felt loudest and the part he felt still made sense. But the rest of him was doing other things and evoking a feeling that this didn't feel wrong, it actually felt right.

He wasn't the one that ended the kiss, Malfoy was. Harry felt as though he had no self-control left. When the kiss broke, he didn't feel relieved as he should have been, but disappointed. It felt like _the _connection had been interrupted, and that was wrong, absolutely wrong. But why then did it feel so right?

"Harry…" His body tensed at the sound of Malfoy's voice. He'd been waiting for his moment, certain that Malfoy was going to tell him this was some sick joke and the rest of Slytherin House would pop from their hiding places to ridicule him. "Look at me." Harry didn't want to look. If he did, he would want to kiss Draco… Malfoy all over again if only to feel _that_ sweet, sweet insanity once again. "_Look at me._"

He looked. No conscious thought, he just did it. He saw that Draco was beautiful.

"Do you know what I'm doing to you?"

Harry slowly shook his head. His thoughts were hazy; a small part of him was still telling him to run away, to get away from Draco. But the larger part of him was more interested in hearing what Draco had to say. It was like something had been unleashed inside of him that was taking over him, subduing him, overpowering him.

Draco smiled. It was predatory and lovely. "I'm seducing you, Harry."

"Why?" Harry rasped, fighting whatever urges that were telling him to jump Draco's bones.

"Because," Draco whispered, lowering his head so that the words breathed against his ear, "I can."

"_No." _

"You can't fight it, Harry," he murmured. "No matter how hard you try, it won't work. It's not like the _Imperius__ Curse_ or anything of that nature. This has to do with hormones and fate. Don't you feel something strange overwhelming you?" He pressed his hand against Harry's heart, and took Harry's hand with his other hand, and laid it on his heart. Both were thumping rapidly, and Harry thought, _in unison. _"It's the thrall. But do you know why?"

_"No._" __

"Do you want to know why?"

_"Yes." _

"I'm a veela, Harry, and you're my mate."

-

**_"How'd it go?" Ron asked. _**

Harry didn't want to talk about it. Draco hadn't told him much. But he had told him to keep it quiet. It would be out soon enough, and once it was there was going to be a wildfire reaction in the school and out of it. Harry was relieved Draco wasn't going to announce it throughout the school. At least, not yet. It gave him time to think and to plan what he would say to Ron and Hermione. They weren't going to take this news well at all.

"No one was there."

Draco hadn't told him to lie, but he couldn't very well say that he had met someone and was going to keep it to himself. He knew Ron, and Ron wouldn't take no for an answer. Ron would also never suspect him of lying. He was too noble, too much of an honorable Gryffindor to do that. It was what he was counting on. He didn't know if he could lie with any efficiency.

"The sod didn't show up?!" Ron sounded outraged.

Harry had wished that were the case. Oh yes, the kiss was amazing. But he didn't like the feeling that Draco pulled out from him, what Draco made him feel. He could do without feeling helpless and out of control. He was still hoping that with some mad researching in the library, that he could find out more about veelas and their mates. And when he did, he could shove the evidence that said that it couldn't be true. The concept they were fated for each other. It was ludicrous. Shouldn't a veela's mate be a veela?

"No."

"That's horrible! To make you go to the Astronomy Tower like that and risk the chance of getting caught by Filch or worse, Snape! What a disrespecting, terrible thing to do!"

Even though Ron didn't know who it was, there was already dislike coloring his tone. Harry didn't want that, despite the fact that it was Draco Malfoy. "The person left a note."

"If she was could bother to leave a note, she should have been there!" Why did Ron always think it was a girl? Oh, yes, that's right; Ron was dating a girl so he assumed everyone had to be as straight as he was. Harry had never really thought about his sexual orientation, and it probably didn't matter to him if it was a boy or a girl. What bothered him was the _identity_ not the gender.

"Maybe they lost their nerve at the last minute."

"That still doesn't excuse it. You were asked, and you went. If you could be there, than she could have been there!"

"The note was nice and apologetic. Something came up."

"Harry," Ron's voice was disgusted, "you are _too_ nice."

No, he wasn't. He was lying to his best friend. That wasn't nice. "I guess."

"I wish you'd stop all this modesty shit."

He really didn't want to deal with a conversation that headed toward the direction Ron was pointing to. It was only going to lead into a discussion that would get them both riled up. He didn't want to end this night, after all that had already happened, on a bad note. Too many things had already gone wrong. Like he should have run when he had the chance instead of standing there and letting Draco, Malfoy do what he'd done. He had the dreadful feeling that if he hadn't stood there, patiently waiting to hear Malfoy out, he wouldn't be in the circumstance he found himself in.

"Ron, I'm really tired."

He sensed Ron's frustration. "Harry…"

"Ron, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

He never got a lot of sleep, and he still somehow managed to function. He'd been getting more sleep since he'd learned about the visions that he thought were nightmares. It was too bad the _Occlumency_he'd learned from Snape didn't really help. As a natural seer, he couldn't stop them from happening. All he could stop were the few things he might see from the connection he shared with Voldemort through his scar. But those were rare, and getting frequently rarer. He used to feel pain whenever Voldemort was particularly angry. That hadn't happened in a long time. He didn't really know why. Maybe Voldemort was blocking him or maybe he wasn't torturing as many people.

"All right," Ron responded through gritted teeth. "Get some sleep then."

Ron could have pushed the issue, and Harry was grateful that he hadn't. "Thanks, Ron."

He heard his friend sigh. "Don't mention it, Harry."

Ron was a good friend, and Harry was a liar. He buried his head into his pillow and groaned. Why did weird things have to happen to him? If only he hadn't gone to meet Draco, no he meant Malfoy. Weird didn't even begin to describe what had occurred.

Him as Malfoy's mate? Surely the world had gone insane.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So what did you think of the thrall? I know someone mentioned that it seems like "rape," but the thrall isn't really a mind control mechanism as much as it's something that makes someone want you so badly that they can't help but act on that want. Draco's theories and thoughts about the "thrall," which is obviously in the next chapter when we switched back to his POV. And how do you like Harry's reaction to this? Pretty calm so far huh? Thanks for reading and please, _pretty please,_ review and make my muse happy?

Thanks to Skull Bearer, Niathal, **TigerBlak** (I think Draco's going on "Harry Hunting" mode soon), Star puff, **violet7amethyst** (Eventually yes, and Harry doesn't like snakes… the promise bracelet was a gift from Draco), Selune, MishapsErrors, **angel** (I'll try not to make him dense and stupid), **riantlykalopsic** (perhaps, you'll find out, and read and see!), Rippa, **Perona** (thanks for the compliment), dis, starlollie, **Lo26** (thanks for the offer to beta, but SeparatriX got there first), SheWolfe7, lloneke, **Mosrael** (not quite the opposite, but to a degree yes), Emily22, kamui5, GentleWaterSoul, SeparatriX (thanks, my beta), bri, **Mon2** (Draco's gonna get it? Draco wants to preserve himself and who knows what Voldie wants w/ Harry?), hyperactivatoragain, meamz02, Yana5, PeachDancer82, tinkita, Makalani Astral, **sak** (a wizard veela might choose, but it's a permanent choice ), Naia (I also like that the title hasn't been used in the thousands of HP stories on Snape will play a part.), Wufei Winner, meninaiscrazy, Shadowface. **Ash** (veelas need their mate, 'nuff said), **Malfoy**** Snogger** (Draco is simply Draco, and he wasn't actually as rude as he could have been), Angel Lain, deliolith, angelkitty77, Minathia, **athenakitty** (Don't know twice over), Kage Mirai.

**TBC** (as soon as you click "go" and feed the muse)


	4. Two Steps Back

**ENTHRALL  
**By Yih

**Beta: **_SeparatriX_ (thanks to her this chapter is about as good grammar and word construction wise as it's probably gonna get!)

**Note on Thrall:** One or two reviewers have mentioned that it sounds like 'rape,' but the concept is really no different than other veela fics. The only difference is that the veela is allowed to choose their mate, but as I will explain and have explained once a veela chooses his mate, it's for life and he will fall in love. They just get to choose who they get to bind their body, their soul, and their love to. Ta da!

**Muse Sick Note:** I threw up (bile) yesterday which is why this is late. I had intended to release this on Saturday but I just wasn't feeling well. So here it is. Sorry for the delay. And I think I'm going to lie down ;; now.

* * *

Chapter 4  
_Two Steps Back_

**_It'd been almost too easy._** It would be easy to underestimate Harry's innate resistance, but Draco wasn't about to let up the thrall. It had taken a summer of relentless practice before he'd gotten good enough at focusing the thrall. And it still took concentration, which was why Harry was under only a mild thrall when he wasn't next to him. Harry was under enough that he wasn't going into a panic mode.

He understood what Harry must be going through. The denial, the anger, and the sheer confusion… he'd know because he'd gone through it himself when his father had informed him that their Lord wanted him to take Harry Potter as his mate. He'd also been bitter. It was from this experience that he felt it best to keep Harry from the full brunt of his emotions. He was numbing Harry a bit, not letting him think too much.

Even though Harry had responded to the first kiss, it didn't mean he necessarily liked the idea. Draco knew firsthand how the thrall, when used in a particular way, acted like a powerful aphrodisiac. When he'd turned the full brunt of his thrall on his mother, he'd thought she'd rape him. But his father had been there to step in and to turn his thrall on to drag his mother's focus away from him. After all, a veela's mate naturally wants their veela.

His mother wouldn't have wanted anyone but his father if _his_ thrall hadn't been on.

It was that strong, though not as strong as his father's. He was only, from Lucius' estimations, probably a third veela, and it might even be as little as a quarter. He hoped being less of a veela that his mate wouldn't affect him as much as his mother affected his father. It was sickening to watch how much his father indulged his mother. If he didn't know better, he would have thought they were a just married couple.

He wanted to think he wouldn't be affected, but already he could feel it inside him--- that invisible force that would make him fall madly, truly, and deeply for Harry. Thinking about the kiss made his groin ache. He would have liked nothing better than to drag Harry from wherever he was (because he wasn't in the Great Hall yet, late as always), and to hell with slow seduction and making Harry fall for him when he ravished him. At least if he couldn't have Harry yet, no one else could, thanks to the promise bracelet.

"Draco…"

"Draco!"

"DRACO!!!"

He jerked his head toward Pansy's shrill voice and gave her his most baleful death glare. "What?"

"Why are you being so mean to me?" Pansy's features screwed up in a pout, causing her pug-like face to appear even more unpleasant than it already was.

He wanted to say that she deserved it for being such a clingy, irritating bitch. However, the propriety and manners that his parents had drilled into him prevented him from being too rude. He managed to smile, a charming smile and murmur, "I'm sorry, Pansy, I was just thinking about something and you startled me. You know how I react when I'm taken by surprise."

Her features softened, and she looked taken by his explanation. "Oh Draco, I forgot that you hate being startled." Yes, she also forgot that he'd called her a pug-faced clingy bitch just the other day. Her memory was a wonderful thing, wasn't it? "I'm sorry, but I just wanted to know if you could help me with a question that I had about Ancient Runes."

He bit his tongue. He wanted to say that no matter what help she got in Ancient Runes; she was still not going to understand the question she had. How she had gotten in the NEWT-level class was still perplexing. Perhaps, there had been a set quota that the Professor needed to meet. Whatever the case, it was a mockery that Pansy was in the class. That still didn't stop the fact she needed help and he might as well get it over with so that when Harry did walk in, he could enjoy the moment.

"So what's your question?"

-

**_Harry showed up late to breakfast_**. He showed up so late in fact, that Draco caught a glimpse of him entering the Great Hall (probably to grab something before heading to class, he thought) while Pansy was dragging him off to Ancient Runes. Both the Weasel and the mudblood had both arrived earlier, and the only thing he was able to note was that Harry looked like shit.

What the hell had happened?

From what he remembered last night, Harry had looked fine. Actually, he had looked better than fine. He had looked delicious and desirable, but that was probably the veela in him reacting to the initial marking. That entire _ritual animal_ crap, though he hadn't really marked Harry yet. It was more a first touch. When he finally did mark Harry, the entire school would know that Harry belonged to him.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you care to tell me what this symbol does if it is etched into the skin with blood?"

The mudblood was raising her hand like always. Didn't she understand how aggravating her blatant show of knowledge was? It was like she was parading herself out on auction, but a Gryffindor would never understand Slytherin subtly would they? He cringed, thinking that Harry was a Gryffindor and he'd started the steps that would lead him to a permanent shackling.

"Mr. Malfoy?!"

He barely glanced at the rune. He had studied it enough times in the past that a simple look was all that it took for him to remember what it was. "It's a _Possidere_rune."

"Would you care to explain what it is for the classmates that don't recognize it?"

Except Hermione, Draco doubted anyone knew what it was. "_Possidere_stands for possess, and this rune, if written using one's blood onto another, will cause the other person to be owned or possessed by the other. It's a type of ownership, but it only works assuming your magic is stronger than theirs."

"Excellent, Mr. Malfoy. I would award points to Slytherin, but considering you weren't paying attention earlier. Let's call it even, shall we?"

Draco inclined his head with good nature, though his expression was indifferent. Of course, that wouldn't help the cause of winning the House Cup. Not that they were going to anyway. It hadn't been awarded to any House but Gryffindor since Harry Potter had walked into Hogwarts. No other House was going to get the House Cup until Harry left Hogwarts. It might as well be a fact written in _Hogwarts, A History. _

Points aside, at least the Professor wouldn't be calling on him again. This Professor was terribly predictable and had never varied from his routine in the 5 years that they had been taking this class. Draco felt it was safe enough to drift back to his thoughts and meanderings about Harry. Like why Harry had looked like he'd just gone through a night of hell. From what Draco remembered, Harry might not have been well, but he hadn't been unwell either…

_"You're insane," Harry had whispered. "This is insane." _

_"If that is what you think of love, then so it must be," Draco murmured. He let go of Harry's hand and reached up to cup his face. "But whatever you say, it won't change the fact that you are my mate." _

_"You hate me!"_

_His fingers stroked Harry's soft skin. "Not anymore." _

_"You hate me," Harry insisted. _

_"No veela can hate his mate." _

_"But…"_

_"And no mate can be without his veela." _

_"I…"_

_He silenced Harry's protest by pressing his fingers against his lips. "If you don't believe me, go to the Library and research." _

_Harry trembled, and Draco removed his fingers from his lips. He didn't want to believe Draco was right, but he would--- Draco knew he would. "You're telling me the truth, aren't you?"_

_Naïve, naïve Harry.__ "Unfortunately." He gave his voice the right amount of inflection, the proper amount of regret and added a bit of bitterness. It gave his voice all that much more believability. "Regrettably." _

_"We don't have to… be together, do we?"_

_Draco__ grasped Harry's wrist in an unbreakable grip. "You don't understand do you?" His eyes were gleaming, a little uncontrollably. The veela in him didn't like Harry's words. Even under the thrall, Harry was still able to say words that hurt him. Although Draco knew that Harry wanted him because he could sense Harry's discomfort. Not to be together, not to be together? Impossible! "Yes, we do." _

_"I…"_

_He didn't give Harry a chance to speak; he bent his head down again and kissed him. This time his kiss wasn't as gentle, but he didn't hear Harry protesting. If anything, Harry was encouraging him, pressing his body against him. His arms were even surrounding him, holding him. Harry's mind might not like the idea, but his body was saying yes, yes, yes._

Harry had looked better after the kiss, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes dilated. He had been too flustered to think, though it might have been the result of being put under too much of the thrall. Draco had never asked, but being under too powerful of a thrall for too long couldn't be good for a person. He would remember to tone it down next time. Ah yes, when to meet Harry next?

It would be a problem, especially if Harry had taken his suggestion not to tell his friends. It was too bad he couldn't command him not to tell the Weasel and the mudblood. The claiming might have started, but it wouldn't be until he had culminated it that he had control of Harry. It would take time. If he pushed it, he could probably be done in a week. But it was better; he agreed with his father, if he went slowly and got Harry to love him. It would make his power over him that much more absolute.

Because it was already starting, he could feel it inside. It was ridiculous, this yearning to please Harry, to make Harry happy, to start falling in love with Harry. The slow steps he had decided to take were going to be torture for his inner veela. He would be careful though, he would remind himself daily that Harry might be his mate, his lover, and all that but Harry would never be his everything.

-

****

**_"So what you're telling me is that the person didn't show up?" _**

Harry nodded.

"And you still don't know who your secret admirer is?" Hermione asked, incredulously.

Interesting. So that's the way that Harry had decided to keep this a secret. Somehow, he had never thought that Harry would actually keep this a secret from the Weasel or the mudblood. He imagined that Harry couldn't wait to tell them, if only to get opinions that reflected his own. He was wrong. Was it possible that Harry was reacting calmly on his own right? Not because of the very, very mild thrall he had on him? It was possible.

Draco had never really tried to do a mild thrall to control emotions. It was just a theory he had. If he could control his mate's physical desires, then he'd thought perhaps he might be able to control Harry's emotional ones as well. Maybe he really didn't have Harry as much under his control as he thought. That was slightly alarming, but not overwhelmingly so, especially if Harry was taking it as well as he seemed to.

"I don't. They left a note and said they couldn't make it. Maybe something came up, or maybe they lost their nerve."

How amusing that Harry didn't want them to have bad thoughts about him standing him up. Again, from the thrall or from Harry himself? If Harry was taking this well, then perhaps he could speed up his seduction timetable. He didn't particularly want to wait until nearly the end of the term to complete the marking ritual. His restless veela wanted it completed as soon as possible.

"I suppose that's possible," she remarked. "It's safer for whoever it is to be underneath a cover of secrecy. It must be terrifying to reveal themselves, especially when it can lead to rejection."

"Yeah, that's probably it."

Draco had heard enough of this conversation, and besides he needed to get to Arithmancy. Professor Vector was a stickler for punctuality, and if he didn't start heading in that direction Granger was going to catch him loitering rather close to the Gryffindor Tower. Just what he needed, to be caught spying on Harry. But he needed to know what Harry had said, what he'd done, and how he was reacting now that the thrall was nearly nonexistent. He would have to meet with Harry again, so he could touch him to reapply it.

Maybe the thrall didn't do anything but control Harry's physical desires and actions. He'd never really talked to his father about anything other than the principle of controlling it and wielding it over the person he'd targeted to be his mate. It was possible his theory was just another silly theory. It was also possible that he simply didn't have as much power in his thrall as he thought, too.

Hadn't he gotten Harry to listen to him though? Or was that merely an offset of the moment? A fluke?

-

**_So Harry had decided to take his advice and do some researching on veelas, _**_Draco__ mused._It was an odd sight, seeing Harry bury his nose into a book. It was more of something you'd expect to see the mudblood doing. But it did make things convenient, especially since his two tagalongs were nowhere in sight. Whatever had he said to get them off his back?

"Do you believe me now?"

Harry jerked backwards and nearly tilted his chair over. "Malfoy!"

"I thought that we were past surnames," Draco murmured, pulling the chair out on the opposite side and taking a seat. "Don't you think after _what we shared_?"

His mate blushed, a light but visible and uncomfortable pink. "One kiss doesn't mean anything."

So, his mate wasn't as much under his thrall as he would have liked to assume. Should he turn it on again? He liked that it made Harry want him. But if it worked like it had on the house elves he'd turned it on, Harry wouldn't be able to think. And he didn't exactly want to be interacting with a brainless passion-filled twit. He got enough of that from Pansy. He wasn't sure if the thrall actually made a person witless though, because neither the house elves nor Pansy had much wit to begin with.

"Oh really?" Draco raised a contradictory eyebrow. "I think it does. After all, it is the beginning of something that's out of our control." He pushed a finger against the thick tome that Harry had been reading. His mate was a good way through, he'd probably been reading for an hour or two already. "You've read enough to get past the basics, and that would have told you what I've already told you. _We need each other_."

"I don't want to believe it," Harry whispered earnestly. "I don't. I don't."

Pathetic Potter. Where was his Gryffindor bravery and foolishness? Shouldn't he be raging in anger and throwing a tantrum as the Weasel surely would? Instead, Harry looked distraught and worn. There were dark circles underneath Harry's eyes as he'd stayed up all night trying to deny what he thought was undeniable. Draco wasn't about to tell Harry the truth.

"Too bad that it's true, isn't it?"

It wasn't untrue. If he were a full-blooded veela, what he'd told Harry most certainly applied. But he was a wizard with veela blood and thus there came a choice. There was no compulsion to a certain person. Harry didn't need to know that. It was better that he didn't. It was much better if he never found out. Then he'd get it through his head, and not blame anyone. It'd be easier if he just accepted it as something that couldn't be helped. Knowing you had a choice made it excruciating, Draco knew.

Harry planted his forehead on the table. "Leave me alone, Malfoy."

"I'm afraid I can't, not just yet."

Harry jerked his head up and glared at him with green daggers. Draco resisted the urge to let the thrall ebb out. He wanted to test something first, test how willing Harry might be. "Of course you can, you can turn around and walk out. It's that simple."

"Sarcasm, how becoming," Draco murmured. "I didn't think you had it in you. All those late night sessions with Severus must be influencing you for the better. It's nice to know that Severus has made some sort of mark on you."

"Shut it, Malfoy and leave."

"If you kiss me."

Shock then anger flooded Harry's eyes. "What?!"

"If you kiss me, I'll leave."

Harry slammed the book shut, loud enough that Draco wondered why Madame Pince wasn't coming around to reprimand them for not handling the books with care. Harry grabbed the book and got up from his seat. How predictable of him. If he couldn't get his way, then he was going to do something that would sort of get him his way. Since he couldn't get Draco to leave, he was going to leave. Not very Gryffindor or Slytherin of him. Harry must be too angry to think properly.

"Harry, don't walk away."

He snapped his head around and his sneer was impressive, worthy of a Malfoy. "Watch me."

And Harry did just as he said. He walked away.

Draco had a feeling that he'd messed up; he'd approached the situation badly. Only he didn't understand what he'd done wrong. Was he supposed pity Harry? Offer him sympathy that he didn't feel? Those were worthless token emotions. What Harry needed was reality, even if it was harsh and not very nice. Reality was reality was reality. There was no going around it, cloaking it with pretty words, or conveniently forgetting that.

Yet, why did he feel like he was in the wrong?

* * *

**Author's Note:** I won't be posting anything until I finish up my creative writing story. If you want me to help me finish, drop me an email. The only way you can help me is to tell me what's wrong with it and what's working for you and not working for you. Lalala. I'm stressed out, but this is a good stress. I mean, at least this is a story and not an organic chemistry or physics test. It's actually fun to do this, but I'm still paralyzed with insecurities about how crappy my professor is going to think this is. What is literary merit? Do I have any literary merit? I think not. _Oh, what did you think of this chapter by the way?_

Thanks to scorpion moon goddess, **Xiaou**** Nem **(Ha, thank you for your dedication and belief in my writing skills), **zadira** (R/Hr's reaction are always -- cliché no matter how you write it, I will try to be a creative cliché), **Iantheyumi** (Saturdays), **lo** (ya Harry liked it), starlollie, bakachan17, Brenned, dablksaiyangurl, SheWolfe7, **Amaya7** (Occlumency doesn't help his thrall resistance, more like his imperius resistance comes in handy.), **Short Fat Fag** (and how is veela attraction any different? Once a veela chooses his mate, there is no choice in the matter anymore.), Brenna8, scottflour, **riantlykalopsic** (I was afraid Harry was a wimp, glad you think not), **TigerBlak** (not big on clothes description, I'll try to get some in next time. Draco does have control over Thrall, but really it's to ensure his mate will want him as much as he will need Harry.), Jazzlady, …, **MishapsErrors** (muse is currently sick and tired, but thanks), A-Brighter-Dawn, Ivin Artemis Draconis, Minathia, Maurynna, **kari073** (I'm not too big on fluff, but yes there will be some), zoomaphonethepirate, sak, Makalani Astral, PeachDancer82, Yana5, **Theoddguy** (the veela needs his mate, but the thrall is to ensure the mate at least wants the veela. Draco will love Harry, but will Harry love Draco?), Angel Lain, FugitiveShadow, angelkitty77, Malfoy Snogger, Lo26, **SeparatriX** (thanks my wonderful, wonderful beta), Medi, Kage Mirai.

**TBC** (–muse is sick-)


	5. Follow Your Heart

**ENTHRALL  
**By Yih

**Beta: **_SeparatriX_ (thanks to her this chapter is about as good grammar and word construction wise as it's probably gonna get!)

* * *

Chapter 5  
_Follow Your Heart_

**_Everything Draco had said was true._** While the book had gone into more detail, it hadn't contradicted what Draco had said. Veelas needed their mates like they needed oxygen. The same could be said for the mate wanting the veela. Harry supposed it was a safeguard mechanism, the mate lusting for their veela. There had to be some hold that the veela had on their mate, especially since it was obvious that the veela was the one that felt more deeply. Veelas lived for their mates. Their mates were everything. But Draco certainly didn't act like a veela that was madly in love with his soulmate. And that's what a mate was, _their soulmate. _

But hadn't he asked for a kiss? That was something, wasn't it? And why the hell did he even want Draco to need him like that?

**Because, **truth be told, it was nice to be wanted, to be needed by someone for just himself. If it were anybody but Draco (other than Voldemort or anyone else that wanted him dead), he would not have been unhappy with the prospect. He actually thought he might even be happy about it. The choice might be eliminated, yet he would be certain that they were meant for each other. The book theorized that a veela found their mate through a combination of smell, auras, and just plain intuition. They just knew. To Harry the concept sounded a lot like love at first sight.

"You know Ron," he heard Hermione's voice entering into the double room that he shared with Ron since they were 7th years, "you really ought to study more. The NEWTs are coming up in a few weeks, and you still haven't really cracked open a book."

"I guess I'm such a bad, bad boy, aren't I? I guess you'll have to punish me, won't you?" _Oh Merlin, _he wasn't hearing this, was he? "What will it be this time?" Ron opened a drawer. "The ropes or the handcuffs?" Hermione was probably pointing at one of them, but Harry didn't want to know which. "Mmm… my room or yours?" _Yours, _he prayed hard, _yours. _

"I think we should go to my room just to be safe," she remarked thoughtfully. "I thought I saw Harry in the library, studying which is really what you ought to be doing, and I have no idea how long he'll stay in there. You said he's been staying there pretty late at night. I suppose that's because Aureole and Snape take up most of his evenings. But right now I need to run to my Astronomy class before I'm late. Meet me in my room later, all right?"

"All right," Ron agreed. "I'll see you then."

"Ron…"

"I know, I know. I'll try to get some work done while you're gone. Don't worry."

"And…"

"I won't forget anything."

"I…"

"You love me," he finished. "I know."

"And you love me."

Harry heard the distinct sound of some very passionate snogging. He was blushing a very, very bright pink from his chair at the far corner of the room where he was hidden from view. If he was lucky, Ron would get whatever books and stuff he needed to get some work done and go straight over to Hermione's Head Girl room. He really, really didn't want Ron to stay in the room because there was no way that he was going to be able to pretend to be not there for an hour. Sooner or later Ron was going to discover him and find out exactly what he'd overheard. How mortifying!

That was a lot of info about their sex life than he ever needed to know.

Ron was breathing hard. "You'd best go."

"I'll see you tonight."

"I'll be waiting."

Ron stood there after the door closed. Harry didn't know why he was just standing there. He wanted Ron to do something, anything as long as it got him away from the room as soon as possible. _Go to Hermione's room, _he begged in his head. _Go anywhere; just don't stay here! _

And thankfully, Ron left.

Not wanting to think of the mess he was in, he dosed himself with a Dreamless Sleep Potion that he'd gotten from Madame Pomfrey and climbed into bed. He hoped he wouldn't have any visions tonight. He really did need some respite after the restlessness of last night. _Let me rest, _he pleaded, _let me rest…_

-

**_Fridays were both good and bad_**. They were good because they were the last day before the weekend, and who didn't like the prospect of having no school for two days? But it also meant he had Potions bright and early at 8:00. He could still hear Ron snoring rather loudly. The lucky git's first class wasn't until Charms at 11:00.

He really didn't want to get out of bed, but it was already 7:15 and it would take at least a couple minutes to get Ron up. The only consolation was that even though Ron didn't need to go to class until 11:00, that didn't mean that he didn't have to get up. If he wanted to get some breakfast into his stomach, he had to be in the Great Hall by 8:00. Harry dragged himself out of bed and went to brush his teeth, shower, and change before he came back to the room to wake Ron up. Ron always complained that the morning wakeup call was too early, so Harry waited until the last viable moment to wake him up.

"Ron! RON! Get up Ron!"

Ron turned in his bed and mumbled something before he started snoring again. Well, that left the Charm that never failed. Ron kept telling him not to use it, _but _there was really no timely way to get Ron out of bed other than this infallible spell. Ron was going to scream bloody murder, Harry knew. It was worth it though. The expression on his face when he woke up to the sensation of many crawling legs was too good to miss out on. Ron might blame him, but Hermione had taught him the spell.

_"Creare aranea!_" he whispered, pointing his wand at Ron and watching a black stream of magic flood around Ron and drop down as spiders. This was rather cruel of him, to use Ron's worst fear as his wakeup call, but it was highly effective. Any minute now…

"HARRY POTTER, YOU BLOODY PRAT!" Ron yelped, jerking his body in uncomfortable positions until he fell out of his bed. "How many sodding times do I have to tell you not to use that spell to wake me up?"

Harry blinked innocently. "It works, doesn't it?"

Ron glared and then whimpered as he saw there were still spiders crawling on him. "Get rid of them."

"_Finite Incantatem."_

The spiders disappeared and Ron was still bright red in anger. Harry was thinking it was time to make his getaway. Ron was smoking in rage. Yup, definitely time to make his escape. "I'll see you down for breakfast!"

The door was his shield against Ron's vomiting hex.

-

**_"You woke him up with the _**_creare__ aranea** charm, didn't you?" **_Hermione inquired as they were walking rapidly to Potions. Harry could hear her carefully veiled amusement. She might have been sympathetic in her boyfriend's presence, but that didn't mean she didn't find it hilarious that Ron's greatest fear were spiders. It was rather ridiculous, actually. With all the horrors in the world, Ron was afraid of _mere_ spiders.

"Whatever made you guess that?" His words were more sarcastic than he'd meant. He winced inside, but kept his expression neutral when Hermione turned her keen eyes toward him. She knew about his special Divination classes with Daphne Aureole, but she didn't really know about his other special lessons with Severus Snape. Dumbledore _and _Snape had made it clear that no one should find out about these, since they were teaching him spells that weren't quite legal. But they were necessary if he had a hope of coming out alive in a confrontation against Voldemort. What didn't help was that he had started picking up Snape's caustic bite.

"I think you've had far too many detentions with Professor Snape recently," she remarked. "You're starting to sound a little like him."

"I don't mean to…"

She sighed. "I suppose it's not a bad thing if he were to rub off on you a little…"

Harry's eyes snapped wide open. "Hermione!"

"You're going to say, 'I'm nothing like that greasy git!'" she predicted with her uncanny intuition. "What I'm saying is that it's not necessarily that bad is it? I mean, he's a brilliant Potions Master and a first-rate duelist. He's one of the strongest wizards that the Light Side has, so it's not bad if he were to rub off on you a bit. It's just that I could do without you acquiring his vile tongue. If you were to get some of his magical attributes, well then that'd be fine with me."

Well, that was good to hear. But what would Hermione think if she knew that Snape had been teaching him the Unforgivables? Not to mention other _lesser-known _dark curses that only a strong wizard would be able to perform. He'd been dipping into some deep shit, ever since the beginning of this year. Thinking of awaited him next Tuesday when he saw Snape was enough to make his stomach feel his nerves.

"I'll try my best not to have his biting tongue rub off on me."

"If you didn't have detention with him, then you wouldn't have to try not to," she responded pointedly. "You know he's always more critical with you than the others, even though it's not really fair. But you know that, and you should make an effort to act more carefully around him. All those detentions are really a waste of time when you should be studying for your NEWTs. I know that you've gotten a lot better since 5th year about opening books, but you could still do more reading."

He groaned. Hermione was persistent to the point of unease. That had to be the reason she'd ended up in Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw. "Hermione, it's not like I try to get into detention with him. And you do know that part of the reason that he gives me detention is to suitably cover up my whereabouts in the evenings when I go to the Divination sessions with Daphne."

"I know, but didn't you tell Ron and me that you sometimes went to the dungeons to clean cauldrons for him?"

He had, but only because he'd come back particularly filthy one night after Snape had tried to teach him the merits of being able to brew a vile but effective pain-killing potion. Since he'd come back smelling of a potions accident (though he'd done the potion correctly that even Snape had been satisfied), he had to explain that. The only reasoning that he could give that made any sense was to say that one of the 'cover up' detentions had unfortunately been real.

"You know Snape wouldn't do anything for nothing," Harry muttered. "He's a Slytherin, and if he's going to give me detentions to help me, he's going to want something out of it too. It's not that bad, 'Mione. All I do is go in and clean a few cauldrons sometimes. It's nothing major."

He was lying, and yet he didn't feel the least bit guilty about it. He'd been keeping up with the secrecy act since the 6th year and was all but used to having to lie about this. It didn't mean he didn't feel guilty when he lied about other stuff, but he didn't feel guilty about lying about this. It was necessary. If Hermione and Ron knew what he was learning, not only would it horrify them, but it would also be dangerous for them. The less they knew, the less they could tell Voldemort if they were ever captured and the better off he would be.

"If you say so…"

He gave her a cheeky smile. "You don't sound like you believe me."

"Now why do I find it hard to believe that the Harry Potter that I've spent the last 7 years at Hogwarts with would **not **enjoy cleaning cauldrons for Professor Snape?" she questioned. "Huh? Would you like to tell me?"

His only answer was to laugh.

-

**_Potions was_****_ excruciating. _**It didn't matter that he'd done nothing wrong with the intermediate step of the Wolfsbane Potion. One more class, the upcoming Monday class, and they would finally be learning the final step in making the breakthrough new potion. It didn't even matter that the only person he had left that counted as _real _family would have a better cure. What mattered was that Draco, supposedly his veela, was working in front of him.

Harry knew something was off the moment Draco Malfoy had walked into the classroom. There was something about him that mesmerized Harry. It had to be the innate attraction that veelas had to attract their mate, which only confirmed double-fold that he was Draco's mate. He'd been hoping that Draco was just wrong with his instincts; with whatever he'd used to determine that _he _was his mate. That had been a vain hope because according to the book, veelas were never wrong.

What puzzled Harry was that the other students in the class didn't seem to be reacting to Draco at all. Hadn't the students reacted to Fleur Delacour in his 4th year? It seemed to Harry that if Draco had turned on his veela attraction to lure his mate, the other students must be going at least half as crazy as he was. He had to be going crazy if he thought Draco Malfoy was the most beautiful creature on this Earth. But they weren't. Maybe Draco could control it? He hadn't read anything about that, but it did make sense. If he thought about it, the wild lust he'd felt for Draco in the Astronomy Tower had been much worse than the lightheadedness he was feeling now.

How much control did Draco have? Draco had to have some, or else he wouldn't be feeling a difference. Did it have something to do with the age that Draco had matured? The book had vaguely mentioned that most veelas matured by their 16th year and found their mates not long after. If Draco was only seeking him out now, he must be 18 and thus had matured later than most veelas. Age might explain why he had more control, Harry supposed.

"Mr. Potter," Snape sneered, "I would think that you'd be most glad to get out of my class when I've dismissed it. But if you want to stay, I can always give you a detention during Charms."

Harry saw Hermione's panicked eyes and Draco's amusement from just outside the classroom. He bit the inside of his mouth and didn't say a word in response. Instead, he shook his head calmly though he mentally shook himself a lot harder. He got the feeling that Draco knew what had been distracting him. Oh but of course, since Draco had probably sought to distract him. That bloody bastard!

"No? Then why are you still standing here? GO!" Snape roared.

Harry didn't have to be told twice.

-

**_Defense against the Dark Arts was a waste of his time._** Harry often thought that thought. It was a pity that he had to take the class to take the NEWT. He really could have done without it. All the stuff they learned from a competent but not brilliant Professor was what Snape had taught him in the first few weeks of his 6th year. He was so far beyond the material that was being taught, though he pretended that he was just learning the supposedly new spells. Sometimes, he couldn't mess up the demonstrations enough but he hoped everyone attributed it to his natural affinity for Defense and not that he'd already learned it.

What he didn't understand was that if Dumbledore could make the exception that he didn't have to be in Trelawney's Divinations class to take the NEWT, then why not Defense? Harry guessed that two exceptions would have been too much and too suspicious, especially when he wasn't supposed to be anything more than an above average wizard. It was best to keep that impression. Think of how surprised Voldemort was going to be when he learned the truth. That not only was Harry a natural seer, but also an extremely proficient wizard in both the Light and Dark Arts.

"Now tell me, Harry," Daphne murmured, "about this Draco Malfoy who claims that you are his mate."

Harry fidgeted with his hands. He was always a little unnerved when Daphne knew exactly what was going on in his life because of her _sight. _He knew she did this for his benefit. By looking into his future, she could warn him of any foreboding events that would occur. "There's nothing much to say," he muttered, "especially since you probably already saw everything that has or will happen."

Daphne cackled, sounding very, very old for a moment. Harry sometimes found it hard to believe that she was nearly Dumbledore's age. She didn't look as old as Dumbledore, though she did look about McGonagall's age. He didn't know if it was because of a Glamour (seers were known to be vain), or if her otherworldly sight had somehow given her a more youthful appearance than a witch of her age should look like.

"Oh, but there are your feelings that you could tell me of," she remarked. "I may see into what your future may be, but I can only guess at what you feel and how you feel about him. So why don't you enlighten me, my protégé?"

"I… don't really know," he confessed.

"Harry…" she warned, knowing instinctively that he wasn't telling her what was really on his mind. Harry knew what tone that was, and cringed, because he'd heard it many, many times in the past. She wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer.

"I'm confused."

"Over?"

"My feelings for Draco."

She nodded. "Because ever since your 1st year, you've hated him."

"Yes, and now I'm supposedly his mate and we're supposed to be together. Do you know how bloody ridiculous that is? That we're meant to be? I mean, I feel like I've woken up to a very, very bad dream."

Daphne paused and she got that look in her eyes, a faraway gaze that meant she was going to say something was going to knock the breath out of him. "Did you enjoy your kiss?"

He hadn't told her that, and she was no master at _Legilimens_. She must have seen that in her reading two nights ago. He would have appreciated a better warning than she'd given him, but what could he do if she wasn't inclined to say anything? Force it out of her? Like anyone could force Daphne Aureole to do anything that she didn't want to do. She was a stubborn old bat.

"Well, did you?"

He could feel his face heating up, blazing red. "I didn't _not _enjoy it."

"I thought it was a pretty passionate snog," she remarked. "I don't think he's a bad fit for you, but…"

"But what?" Harry inquired. "Do you have some advice for me?"

"Do you really want my advice, given what I know that could very well happen?" she asked cryptically.

"I know better than to ask what will happen," Harry began, "but do you have any words of advice?"

"Would 'follow your heart' be too cliché?" she inquired.

"Is that your advice?"

"Yes."

"Then no, it wouldn't be," he responded. "You're the anti-definition of cliché."

"It's unfortunate," Daphne remarked wryly, "that I've been reduced to clichés."

"Indeed."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I really, really thought I'd get past the 5 chapter muse block but alas… I've waited and waited for 3 weeks and I have no desire to write any further thus far. I'm hoping your reviews will resuscitate my muse, if not well I won't be continuing this story. If that case should arise, I will be posting the outline that I've made for this story as well as my notes at my personal archive: stranged DOT tk. Either way, I do apologize for how long it's taken to post this considering this was done three weeks ago when I was still writing this story. I basically wrote 5 chapters in 2 weeks, and my muse has I think collapsed from exhaustion. Ah well… I really just don't see a point to writing this even if this has a rather inspired plot for a veela story. Thanks for your reviews and I was hoping I'd get enough of a muse kick in the head to finish this (so I could write a long Harry/Draco series) but alas it doesn't look like it's gonna happen.

_Feel free to feed the dead muse._ (sometimes it lives again).


	6. Weekend Seduction

**ENTHRALL**

By Yih

**Unbeta'd**

Chapter 6

_Weekend Seduction_

**_It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and Draco was planning to take advantage of it._** Somehow, someway he was going to get Harry alone so that he might work his innate charms on the dark-headed beauty. Draco's shoulder tensed up when he thought of the word _beauty_, he didn't really think that about Harry Potter did he? The Boy Who Lived simply wasn't beautiful was he?

_Oh but he was_, his mind whispered sibilantly. Yes, Draco supposed Harry was in a way. His green eyes glittered like emeralds. His dark brown, appearing nearly black sometimes, hair was a bit on the messy side, but it looked shiny and soft to the touch. Though his mate was a bit on the thin side, he had slender well made bones. Nothing in his appearance indicated his coarse muggle heritage. Probably because his father came from such an old Pureblood line, the Potter family was nearly as old as the Malfoy one. Then again there were few families as pure as his, but it was a pity Harry was a half-blood or else he would make nearly the perfect mate.

Besides, Draco rather thought Harry's dark beauty complimented his own fair one. The Malfoy heir smirked at his reflection in the mirror and struck a pose that had the mirror saying: _Lovely dear, absolutely exquisite. Aren't you simply the most beautiful boy in Slytherin? _Of course he was and he didn't need a mirror to confirm it. Though, it was nice to hear the words, even though he knew it.

Now what robes to wear for the occasion? Nothing too fancy, but he was definitely going to try to put the initial mark on his mate. His inner veela was itching for some mark of possession. It had only been a week, but veelas were never known for their patience. Why else was there a thrall that would get their intended mate to go crazy with lust for them? It was a natural development because of a veela's impatience.

"Maybe the green?" he thought aloud. He stared at his deep green robes, a shade darker than his mate's own eyes. It would suit him well, but how would it look against whatever Harry chose to wear today? He didn't want to outdo his mate, but compliment him instead. Though, grimacing at the thought, he didn't even know why he would want to. It wasn't like they were bonded yet, and he was already this thoughtful.

Draco's stomach clenched with worry. He really did have to take his father's words into careful consideration. And he definitely would need to patch up what he'd done wrong two nights ago. He couldn't afford to have Harry love him less than him, it would be intolerable. Too bad he hadn't seriously thought about what his father had said before, after all his father would know since he had firsthand experience. But still, Draco hadn't thought he'd been a prick. He was treating Harry a hundred times better than Pansy. And didn't that count for something?

He sighed and supposed he could tone down his sarcasm. It might do him well to stop insulting Harry's stupid friends. Draco guessed that Harry was far more loyal to his friends than Draco was to his own. Not that he really did have a friend in Slytherin. Crabbe and Goyle were more like his body guards and Pansy was a crushed nuisance. If there was anyone he could even consider a friend, it would probably be Blaise. But the two of them used each other far too much to be considered _good friends._

Ah well, that was the way of the Slytherin, wasn't it?

-

**_"So what do you guys want to do first?_**" Harry asked. It seemed like an innocent question it seemed, but apparently not.

Ron looked at Harry, shooting him a gaze that said: _You can't be seriously asking this question. _It actually looked quite a bit like the expression on his mudblood girlfriend's face. Really, those two suited each other perfectly. Although, Draco still thought that Granger was much too smart for Weasel. But then being a mudblood, she had no sense of taste.

"Honeyduke's of course!" Ron exclaimed. "What else? Then we can munch on chocolates and browse around."

Of course, knowing the Weasel's limited brain capacity of course he thought that was a brilliant idea. Knowing him, he probably had the same thought every bloody Hogsmeade weekend. Draco wanted to sneer, but what was the point of wrinkling his beautiful face when no one was there to see it?

"Is all you can think about chocolate?" Hermione muttered. "Can you think with your brain for once instead of your stomach?"

"What's wrong with thinking with my stomach?" Ron inquired, as if it wasn't obvious. He was such a waste of air. He really did not have one good thing to say. Why was his mate even friends with this terrible excuse for a human being?

"Why the bookstore!" Hermione exclaimed.

Draco stifled a groan. Why was he not surprised with what she was saying? She was too horribly predictable, the insufferable mudblood. What in the world did Harry see in his friends? He supposed loyalty and being smarter than Crabbe and Goyle had to count for something. Looking at his two brain dead body guards, he saw that they were looking around for him. Somehow they managed to look like lost _fat _puppies, not too ugly but not especially cute.

"Don't you have enough books to read in the library?" Ron retorted. And this Draco did have to admit that the Weasel had a point. After all, the Hogwarts library was on of the best in the United Kingdom, though it couldn't compare to the Malfoy's personal library. But then few libraries could.

It was when he saw Harry looking directly at him that he felt a small amount of panic. He watched his mate's eyes carefully to see if he was really seeing him or not. Draco was using an obscuring spell his father had taught him this summer, a spell that would make people see him as whatever they wanted except who he was. It was a useful spell to use when spying on others, as long as they weren't looking for him. If they were and they were a strong enough wizard, the spell didn't really work. But carefully observing Harry as he was, his eyes weren't really focused on him.

Instead, they were hazy as if Harry was observing something far away. It was actually kind of eerie. Draco had read that seers gifted with the sight often were described as having a far away look to them when they were seeing a vision. But Harry Potter a seer? Please. The only thing his mate had going for him was that he was good-looking, famous, and that he would be a Malfoy shortly. Draco smirked as he thought: _Harry Malfoy has a nice ring to it. _

Draco felt his heart skip a beat when he saw Harry fall to his knees, clutching his head while his friends were arguing back and forth and not even noticing that **his mate** was in trouble! What kind of worthless friends were they? Draco was about to end the obscuring spell when the mudblood abruptly snapped into action, ignoring her Weasel and dropping to her knees next to Harry.

"Harry," she cried, her arms wrapping _around_ his mate, "are you okay?"

Whatever Harry said, Draco couldn't quite pick up. Next time, he observed bitingly, he needed an eavesdropping spell too. It was just he didn't quite know how the eavesdropping spell would react with the obscuring one. Some spells simply didn't mix well together. Sometimes, it was simply better not to risk whatever backlash there would be, even if he would miss parts of the conversations that were whispered about.

"Do you want to go back to Hogwarts?"

_Damn it,_ Draco thinks, it would ruin his plan if Harry went back to Hogwarts. Well, a little. But it would be hard to snog Harry in a corridor when the younger years were running about, playing and generally having a good time according to them. When he was that young, he had thought it great fun to explore the castle. Now when he thought about it, he pitied the older years that hadn't been able to find a free space to engage in some romantic entanglements. However, he always had his Head Boy room, if he could lure Harry there.

"No, that's okay," Harry remarked. "I'm fine, really I am. I think I just need to sit down and if you'd help me up Ron?"

"Of course mate," Ron replied, holding his hand out to Harry and pulling him up to his feet again. Draco's inner veela definitely didn't like anyone calling Harry, _mate_, besides him. Draco wondered why his veela self was getting all possessive today, or actually yesterday too. It wasn't even like he'd really claimed Harry yet. Though the intentions certainly were there and his veela must be picking up on them.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said, grinning at his best friends in a way that Draco wanted Harry to look at him.

"Don't mention it," Ron remarked, swinging his arm around Harry and the other around his girlfriend. "Let's go to The Three Broomsticks then and get you a butterbeer."

Draco had the distinct and unnerving feeling that even though Harry wasn't heading back to Hogwarts, his plans were not going to pan out as he expected them too. Despite that, he followed Harry to The Three Broomsticks, where he would have to make the best of a free moment when he got it. And like all Slytherins, he knew how to make his move. This time he would just have to be a bit more careful with his words and not seem _sly. _Sweet and earnest would be a plus if he could manage, but he thought being nice would do just fine.

-

**_Draco_****_ knew he didn't much patience._** He had never been the type that could wait on anything. What he wanted he got, and since his wizard self had decided on Harry Potter as his mate, his veela _wanted_, his veela _needed._ It took far too long, and one too many butterbeers before Harry needed to use the bathroom. But when he did, Draco was ready, and he was there ready to end the obscuring spell as soon as his mate walked in.

"Hello Harry," he drawled, positioning his body to show off his beauty to its maximum potential. "Fancy running into you here."

Harry snorted, his cheeks pink from the slightly alcoholic beverage. "I doubt it's a coincidence. I saw you following us all day."

Seen him? How could Harry have? Draco did not think it was possible for Harry to have seen him, unless… when Harry had gotten that foggy look into his eyes he had possibly seen him? But then Draco hadn't thought that Harry was even looking at him, much less at anything. Then again, Draco really had no idea what it looked like to see someone under an obscuring charm. Was it possible that he had looked eerie? Or worse, had he looked bad?

"Oh really, did you see me now?" Draco murmured. "Did anyone else see me, or was it just your imagination maybe?" He moved closer to his mate, until he could almost smell him. If he was a true veela, he would have been able to smell his mate in a room crowded full of other less worthy wizards and such. But since he was not, all he had was the thrall, and one that was not quite as powerful as he would like—especially since Harry had shown resistance. "Or maybe it was because you secretively yearned for me?"

"I saw you," Harry stated resolutely. "What do you want?"

Draco noticed that Harry didn't pull away, though Harry didn't seem all too happy with how close he was getting. A pity because Draco was planning on getting a lot closer, closer enough to touch and do all sort of things that would make his veela a very happy veela. "I want you," Draco said softly. "Why else would a veela seek out his mate? It is a want; it is a need; it is a disease."

"But what if I don't want you?" Harry asked, his green eyes staring into his silver ones.

The words cut into Draco like a sharp knife, and he decided to show his pain. It was normally against everything his father had taught him, to show vulnerability and the like, but this time Draco knew it would only benefit him. Harry was too much of a Gryffindor to be cruel. And his words were unnecessarily harsh. So Draco let his veela self out, let his veela take more control of his emotions. His eyes filled with tears and he shuddered uncontrollably and he reached out to his mate, clutching Harry's upper arms desperately.

"You don't mean that, do you?" Draco cried out. "You don't understand, do you? Even if you don't love me, I will love you regardless of if we bond or not until the end of days. I will be miserable, but I will not die. Think about living a life that holds no meaning, to be a vapid thing with no purpose. That is what a veela is like when their mate rejects them." Draco blinked and a tear fell down his cheek. "And a mate has not rejected a veela in over a hundred years, Harry. Would you be the first?"

When Draco looked carefully at Harry, he saw the hesitation and knew he had won. But he was careful to keep the hurt in his face still there, careful to keep his eyes wet with unshed tears, and careful to keep manipulating his mate's emotions in just the way he wanted. A willing Harry would be far easier to control than one that was unwilling. And besides, the more Harry believed, the easier it would be when Draco set out to make Harry fall in love with him.

"Harry," he murmured, "will you be the first in over a hundred years to say no?"

Harry opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again and said softly, "No."

Draco blinked away the last of his annoying tears and smiled in a way that he knew made him look like an angel. He then turned on his thrall as strongly as he good as he bent his head down to kiss Harry's. "I want you," he whispered. "Please let me kiss you."

Harry did not turn his face away, and Draco's lips met him in a kiss designed to seduce and to melt all resistance away. His tongue played against Harry's with the skill of an expert. And his lips devoured Harry with a sense of possession. In his mind, Draco chanted:_ You are mine, Harry. You belong to me. And you will always belong to me. _

And it did not hurt that kissing Harry felt so right. Draco could feel his inner veela rising, plunging desire into his veins, and his blood draining to his groin. He didn't have an idea how much time had passed, but enough that his trousers were feeling quite tight, and that his mate was also aroused. Draco would like nothing more than to strip Harry of his clothes now and take him, but the thought of doing it in a public bathroom, even one as clean as this one was, was a turn off.

Instead, somehow Draco managed to lift his head from Harry's even though Harry was clutching him desperately, as if he wanted nothing more than to do it right then and there. Draco smiled and gave in to one small desire. He bent his head down and latched his mouth onto the side of Harry's throat. The part where the shirt parted and left his pale, beautiful skin there for the marking, and the claiming.

Draco sucked hard, wanting his mark of ownership on Harry and he could feel Harry's hips thrusting against him. Inwardly, he smiled and he used his teeth to nibble on the flesh, causing the skin to turn a blood red. Soothingly, he licked the crimson skin with his tongue and then withdrew his lips. He toned down his thrall and rested his forehead against his mate's.

"We are meant to be," he whispered, cradling Harry gently. It felt odd for him to be tender with anyone, and even though he had set out to seduce—even he hadn't know he had this inside of him. "You are mine, do you understand?"

_Yes_ Harry hissed.

If anything, Draco got even harder hearing Harry speak in parseltongue. With keen amusement, Draco thought, all Harry had to do was say nonsensical things in that language and he would probably cream in his trousers without too much physical stimulation. "English please," Draco requested. "Answer me this: are you mine?"

Harry's bright, passion filled eyes met his. "I'm yours."

Draco didn't know if it was the mild thrall that was doing the talking for Harry, or if it really was Harry who was saying this. Draco still wasn't sure how much control the thrall had over Harry, especially since his mate had proven resistant to it before. Though, it was interesting to note that Harry seemed a lot less able to fight it when Draco approached in a more amiable manner. Using manipulation and seduction as the forefront assault and the thrall as an aid rather than the weapon.

Not that it really mattered to Draco. If it was Harry or if it wasn't really Harry, having Harry say them made his veela self very happy. Draco could feel a warmth in his body—a contentedness. Though it had a good deal to do with the claiming mark, Draco also knew a good portion was that Harry had acknowledged him as his veela.

"Yes," Draco whispered, "you are definitely _mine._"

-

**Author's Note:** I haven't updated for almost two months. I'm not really sure how long this muse will last, but as always reviewing helps. I know this chapter was short (shorter than the rest), but at least something happened in this eh? Draco's gotten a lot better at being a potential lover than a master, and that's what he's going to have to do to get Harry to fall for him. And already Draco's starting to fall for him. Draco better hope that Harry falls for him more than Draco is falling for Harry. And isn't possessive Draco cute? Harry's POV is next.

_Feel free to feed the dead muse._ (sometimes it lives again).


	7. A Vision of Draco

**ENTHRALL  
**By Yih

**Unbeta'd**

Chapter 7  
_A Vision of Draco_

**_Why had he given in?_** Was this a weakness of being a veela's chosen mate? Harry pulled aside his collar to look at the mark that Draco had left on his golden skin. It looked like a mark of possession, and he ought to be offended. He wasn't just some thing that Draco could mark as his—but instead of feeling offended, he felt accepting. It was weird. Was this the kind of power a veela had over their mate?

According to the books, it seemed like the veelas were powerless against their mates. After all, their mates were everything to a veela. And a veela would do anything to please their mate. But somehow Harry got the feeling that it wasn't really like that with Draco. While Draco did seem to desire him in a way he never had before, he didn't seem like he was about to lose control like the books reputed veelas did in the presence of their mate—especially a mate they had not claimed as their own.

Harry touched the red mark tentatively, gently. While the mark might be a sign of claiming, it wasn't the final step. Harry blushed when he thought of the book's mundane description of what constituted as a claiming—sex. Harry sighed and splashed some cold water on his face to shake off how hot he felt. He wasn't going to let Draco get to him, he vowed. And he wasn't going to act like anything had changed.

He might be Draco's mate, but that didn't mean Draco had any real power over him. If anything, it was he that should have power over Draco. He was going to use that grasp, that control that the mates were said to have over their veelas—even though veelas were naturally dominant. But who said someone who was submissive couldn't be passively aggressive and in control? After all, hadn't he pulled off a piece of brilliant acting yesterday? Considering what he had just experienced? He could have sunk to his knees and fallen apart, but he had pulled himself together—even prepared himself for the unexpected—which had happened. Thank Merlin he had pulled it off.

Harry smiled with relief at the mirror, who cooed and awed appreciatively at his smile, and he decided that was actually what he would do. Had the Sorting Hat not wanted to put him in Slytherin? Well it was time to show his Slytherin qualities by manipulating the Prince of Slytherin. He would not be manipulated, nor taken for as a foolish Gryffindor—not when he possessed qualities of the most sly House in Hogwarts—Slytherin.

Harry walked out of the bathroom whistling.

-

**_"You're in a good mood today,"_** Ron remarked, pushing a plate of sausages to Harry. "Who did you have a nice snog with the other day?"

Harry choked on the pumpkin juice he was drinking and Hermione glared at Ron before placing a napkin into Harry's hand. "Ron!" she exclaimed. "Don't say things like that when he's drinking. Did you want him to choke?"

Ron ducked his head sheepishly and shook his head. "I didn't mean to but…"

"I know," Hermione remarked, patting his hand gently. "You are the epitome of a Gryffindor, aren't you?"

Ron nodded and beamed, proudly and brightly. "Of course I am!"

"Yes, of course you are," she agreed. She turned to Harry and asked, "Are you all right?"

Harry caught Hermione's wink and if Ron wasn't looking right at his direction, he would have winked back. He was biting the inside of his mouth to hold back his laughter as it was. Sometimes, Ron could be absolutely clueless. There were times when he wondered what Hermione could see in Ron, and yet—Ron really was a good, decent, and nice guy deep down—just prone to impulsiveness that seemed to plague every Gryffindor.

"I'm fine," Harry answered. "Just surprised is all."

"Well, you didn't think we wouldn't figure it out, did you?" Hermione inquired, her eyes angling at him in a way that told him he was going to spill his guts before she let him quit. "So who is it?"

"Was it the girl we were talking about before?" Ron asked. "The one that didn't show up at the Astronomy Tower?"

Harry glanced from Hermione to Ron and then reluctantly nodded. His conscience was screaming that he was lying to his friends, but he shoved it down and told himself that his friends wouldn't understand if he told them the truth. Ron would explode. Draco bloody Malfoy, even Hermione would probably disapprove. She would remind him that Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father had tried to kill him a few times already—how could he even think about having a relationship with his son?

As for Ron, there was an outstanding grudge between the Malfoys and the Weasleys. Harry didn't know the exact details, but what he did know was enough to conclude that this wasn't some silly family feud. This went back a long time, and compared to other past generations—the current one despite the animosity—was relatively congenial to each other.

Besides, Hermione was right in her concerns. How could he even think about being with Draco, even give in like he had when Draco's father had tried to kill him before? And when he wasn't trying to kill him, trying to capture him for Voldemort? That was surely a certain death sentence. Harry groaned and dropped his head to the table, banging his forehead against it with a resounding thump.

"So was the snog good?" Ron persisted. "You looked thoroughly snogged.."

He had been, Harry thought, desire curling in his belly to even be thinking about how Draco used his tongue and his lips to bring him to the very edge of losing control. Actually, he probably had lost it and not even realized it. Thinking bad, remembering how mindless with desire he had been, he had been out of control. Damn Draco, he thought with more affection and rancor.

"Do you want to tell us who it is?"

Harry shook his head. "Not yet."

Ron opened his mouth to protest but Hermione beat him to it. "Because you aren't sure it's serious?"

It was serious, he had already acknowledged that the day before, but she had given him the perfect excuse. "Yes, yes that's it." But he could tell from the shrewd look in Hermione's eyes that she didn't entirely buy it, though she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. What was good was that Ron seemed to take his answer for what it was. "I don't know how serious it is," he murmured, trying to convince himself he hadn't just gotten himself caught in a web. "Not yet, at least."

"Mmmhmm," Hermione murmured, her eyes studying him like he was one of her books. "So what are you doing today? Another seer session with Daphne Aureole?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "All afternoon, actually."

Ron let out an aggrieved sigh. "I guess if we want to have any fun beforehand, we ought to get on to it before—"

"What fun?" Hermione queried, turning to Ron. "You haven't even started your homework that's due tomorrow! And you have two essays to do!" She refocused her attention on Harry. "And you're even worse, you have three!"

"One actually," Harry remarked. "I finished two last night because I couldn't sleep."

"Too much on your mind, eh mate?" Ron said.

Harry shrugged. "I guess so."

"So how about a chess—" Ron began and then stopped when he caught his girlfriend glaring at him. "After dinner," he said. "After dinner we'll play a game of chess, how does that sound mate?"

Harry laughed and smiled. "That sounds awesome."

-

"**_You have a vision without looking for it_**," Daphne remarked. "It came to you like a random thing, as a dream would—though you were not asleep or dreaming." She smiled thoughtfully and pursed her lips together. "That is not strange, though such chance visions usually come to those that are not as naturally gifted as you are, Harry. We can call the sight, but that doesn't mean we can fully control when it wants to come to us at inopportune times."

"I understand," Harry responded. "But I've never really had one of those before."

"Are you certain?" she inquired. "It might seem sometimes like intuition, like how you know what's going to happen before it does. It's a feeling, an instinct that you get. You fail to recognize it as random sight because it feels so natural to you. This power is what you were born with, and so you often overlook it. I, myself, didn't identify it for what it was until Proteus saw my gift and nurtured it, much as I'm doing for you."

"I…" Harry hesitated, "I'm not certain."

Daphne nodded. "It's hard to be, especially when you're new to it." She sighed and dipped her hand into the water bowl, unsettling the even surface. "You will become more proficient the more you learn and experience. Today, I will take you to the astral plane with me and we will see if my old mentor, Proteus is there." She stared at him with a hard, unflinching gaze. "You will tell him what you heard and perhaps he will tell if what you saw was past or future or present."

"I thought Proteus won't answer questions like that…"

"Rarely does," she agreed, "but in this, I hope that he will. It is important for him to answer this, do you not agree?"

"I do," he answered. "It is important, but I thought my gift as a seer was to see into the future."

"It is," she said, "but like all gifts, it can alter its form occasionally. You have a true foresight, but that does not mean you cannot see into the past at times. There are few seers that see into the future as accurately or as often as you can. But nearly all seers, even those without natural gifts can sometimes glimpse into the past with the accuracy that makes you feel as if you were there."

"I see."

Daphne smiled and dabbled some of the water over his head and hers. "Are you ready?"

He glanced toward her with steady green eyes. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Then look into the water," she said. "Wait for it to settle, and we will use it as our springboard."

-

**_Walking on the astral plane took a lot of effort, mental effort because though it seemed that they were there—they weren't really._** Their bodies—a version of them—had been transported there, but it wasn't really their physical one. It was more like a spiritual representation of themselves. Which was why, the first time Harry had wandered in the astral plane, he had thought he was dreaming. He hadn't even had a spiritual version of himself. He was just there—seeing things.

It was difficult to have to picture oneself moving to move, but he had eventually gotten the hang of it. He still was nothing on the astral plane compared to his guide, Daphne. She was a vision to see in the astral plane, looking beautiful and powerful—like a goddess. When he had met her on the astral plane the first time—he had thought her angel, some celestial being. She had laughed and told him it was only the power of her aura _and_ that in this plane of being she was the age she felt herself to be—young and not old as her physical body was.

"Come along, Harry," Daphne remarked, gesturing for him to follow where she was drifting with unnatural speed. If he didn't start trying to catch up to her, he would lose her. "Don't get distracted. Pay attention only to me. Don't let anything lead you off the road. We've a long way to go."

"But he is here?"

She nodded. "I can feel him. Today, he is here."

-

**_Proteus was an old, crippled looking man and his aura was indistinctive—blending in with the surroundings as if he did not want to be found._** Harry understood the great seer's need for secrecy. From Daphne, he had heard many stories, many tales of how many people would come to badger Proteus for an answer to the past and the future. If Daphne was great, then Proteus had no word to describe his sheer brilliance. Harry could only hope to have half of his gift.

"Daphne's protégée," Proteus rasped. "You come to seek, but do you think you will find?"

"I don't know."

"I know what you wish to have answered," he said hoarsely. "But tell me anyway." He held up his hand to stop Daphne from speaking as she had started to open her mouth. "I want to hear it from you."

Harry gulped and nodded. "It was a random vision…"

-

**_It was dark, cold and bleak—this place Draco was in._**_ It felt like the dungeons at Hogwarts, but Harry recognized that it was too something to be it, too dark maybe. There was vibration of power that made Draco shiver, but the blond continued walking down the long hallway as if it was nothing. Harry watched as he could do nothing but watch as Draco made several winding turns before he ended up in front of two large doors. He spoke a phrase, "_Ater Atra Atrum**_," _**_and the doors opened. _

_There was a small humming sound that came from the room, a power that Harry knew instantly—this was Voldemort's stronghold. He would have shuddered if he could, but this was vision and he was only a watcher to the events—and if he could have told Draco not to go in, he would have. But as he had no choice… he was pulled with Draco into the room, into the room full of unmasked Death Eaters. _

_"Draco Malfoy," Voldemort hissed, still looking less like Tom Riddle and more like a snake—but his overall features had gone through an improvement over the last time Harry had seen him, "welcome." _

_"My Lord," Draco said, sinking to his knees and bowing his head to press his forehead against the stone floor. "I am here to serve you." _

_"Yes," Voldemort agreed, "and today you will be marked. Rise Draco." _

_Draco__ lifted his head up. "Thank you, my Lord." _

_"You are most welcome," Voldemort answered, gesturing for Draco to come to him. _

_Draco__ stood up, and Harry wanted to reach out to him and say _no no no, don't do this!_ But he could do nothing but wait and watch to see what would happen. Harry felt his heart squeezed tightly when Draco bared his arm for Voldemort and he would have liked to look away but for the fact that he was compelled to see this, to witness this, to remember this. _

_"Like your father, Lucius, you will serve me and do what I bid, won't you?" _

_"Yes," Draco vowed. "I will serve you to the death of me." _

_"Then you will be mine," Voldemort declared fiercely. He placed his hand on Draco's upper arm and whispered, "_Ater Atra Atrum Macula."

_Harry could see the smoke rising from Draco's arm and he imagined he could smell the burning flesh. But it had to be his imagination, all of this that he was feeling. He couldn't really, could he? Feel all this? Feel so bound up into this? And this Death Eater was his mate? His chosen for life? How could this be? _

_"My newest Death Eater," Voldemort announced, his red eyes gleaming, "Draco Malfoy, son and heir of Lucius Malfoy with blood as pure as could be. You will be part of a new generation, of a new regime, and of a new Order of Darkness." _

_"Yes, my Lord," Draco murmured, "at your command it will be." _

_"And all I ask of you," Voldemort whispered sibilantly, "is for Harry Potter." _

-

**_"And you wish to know if this is past or near present or from the future,"_** Proteus remarked. "Is that not so?"

Harry glanced briefly at the shimmering Daphne before nodding. "Yes."

"Do you really, really want an answer?"

Harry hesitated. Did he really want to know when this would happen? It would trap him in the knowledge of knowing, and if it was future—would he try to prevent? If it was past—would he feel resigned to his fate? And if it was near present—what could he do?

"I…"

"And that is the question I ask all who seek me out," Proteus stated. "And you are first that has ever hesitated. Even she," he accused, pointing at his protégée, "never hesitated in wanting to know what will come, but you are wise—and do."

"I was but 9!" Daphne protested, sounding like a young girl.

"And 12 and 17 and 29," Proteus retorted, his eyes seeming to spark with some life. "I think you've chosen well, my Daphne. This young man has great potential, very great. He will go on to do great things, great deeds."

"Good things?" Harry inquired.

Proteus smiled. "I thought you didn't want to know your future."

"Is the vision my future?"

Proteus shrugged. "It can be your past, your present, or your future. Regardless, you will be great either way. You must choose your path carefully and think about the destiny lying in front of you. Which road you decide will alter some matters, but in no way will it lessen what you will eventually become."

"A great seer," Daphne inputted.

Proteus snorted. "He will be more than that, child. Much more."

Daphne sniffed, a mannerism that was more like the woman that Harry knew. "You make me sound like an untaught, ungifted seer like Sibyl Trelawney!"

"Hmmm…"

"Proteus!" she exclaimed.

"You are not," Proteus admitted. "And of course, you are not. Both of you are quite gifted with the sight, and you, Harry are blessed with both visions of past and future, and sometimes even present. I have not seen one such as you since Daphne came to me." The old man waved them away, pushing them afar. "Go now, and seek out your fate Harry Potter."

-

**Author's Note:** hums Well I haven't updated in nearly a month and I'm sorry about the slow update. I've been working w/ another author on some other fics which you can find here if you go to nenyaentwhistle. She actually helped me write parts of this, so thank her a lot! If not for her, I wouldn't even be writing this as I'm so wrapped up in the other stuff. Anyway, how do like the seer stuff or is that all too much for you? And how did you like the Draco vision? Do you think it's past, near present, or future? Hmmm? And Draco's POV is coming up next!

_Feel free to feed the dead muse._ (It will live again!)


	8. In the Scheme of Things

**ENTHRALL  
**By Yih

Chapter 8  
_In the Scheme of Things_

**_Draco smiled even though he had to wake up._** _Yesterday had been excellent_, he thought as he stretched languidly on his bed. Just remembering the way Harry had felt against him and had tasted was enough to send thrills down to his groin. He took in a sharp breath when his silk boxers rubbed against his penis in such a way that it sent tingles shooting up his spine. He slipped his hands into his pants and stroked at a steady pace until he came all while thinking of what it would be like if it was Harry's hand instead of his own.

He buried his head into his pillow and moaned softly. Draco could still remember vividly Harry saying: _"I'm yours."_ It was definitely the sweetest phrase he had ever heard, and it gave his inner veela a rush to know that his future mate was giving in, accepting, and saying yes in body and soul. Now, Draco thought, lifting his head from his pillow—all he needed was to go one step further. Just thinking about that gave him another erection.

"You're mine, Harry," he whispered fiercely. "You're mine."

-

**_The day was not going to plan._** He couldn't find Harry anywhere, though that probably had a lot to do with the fact that he hadn't gotten out of bed until noon and hadn't even gone to the Great Hall until the last half hour to grab a little brunch. How was he to know that Harry would be the early type? Who got up that early anyway on a Sunday when there was no incentive like Hogsmeade?

Draco curled his lips and sneered. To make it worse, he had gotten an owl from his father's gyrfalcon. He didn't even need to open it up to know what it would say. But his father always had a rather interesting way with words, which was why he even bothered to make an effort in opening up the scroll.

_Draco,_

_Time is fading. Time will not wait. Time is ending._

_-LM_

And oh did his father have a way with words.

-

**_It was nearing dinner and he still had no idea where Harry was_**. Draco growled and slammed his fist into a wall, not even feeling the pain of his knuckles crunching against stone. His veela was too frustrated, especially when he had already planted the image in his head of what he would like to do tonight. Obviously, Harry wasn't going to cooperate with him—keeping out of sight far too well.

From what had happened the other day, Draco would have thought that Harry would be running to his side, doing anything for him if he turned on his thrall. But Draco would prefer to have his other considerable charms seduce Harry rather than relying on his thrall to do the work for him. After all, he was a Malfoy and they were well-known to be excellent in bed—and with the addition of being a veela—sex came instinctually.

The only problem… his mate was no where to be found. Draco gritted his teeth together and his human self tried to tell himself to calm down, to relax and _bloody well_ think! Wherever Harry was, he would eventually have to come to the Great Hall to eat dinner, and when he got there Draco would make sure he left when Harry did to catch him. He was not about to let Harry go after the incredible frustration he had already been through today.

-

**_His mate had arrived late to dinner, looking pale and withdrawn, not a good look for him._** Draco felt concerned and quickly shoved the emotion deep inside of him. Why should he be worried about him? Harry _was_ only his mate because of what his Lord wanted. And he really needed to start picking up the pace, which he had intended to do earlier—but of course the fates were thwarting him.

But no longer, he thought with a lascivious smile. Soon Harry wouldn't know what hit him. Draco smiled and settled down to do his Harry watching, always careful not to really make it apparent that he was staring at his mate. Of course, he was. However, one did not want to appear they were a love fool—which was what Draco thought of the people that were constantly watching him.

"Draco," he heard Pansy whine into his ear, "isn't Sunday dinner the best of the week?"

He nodded absently, knowing that even _that_ simple of an acknowledgement would please her. The bint was far too easy to manipulate, and it was probably only the purity of her blood that had gotten her into Slytherin. Though where else she would have fit eluded him. Maybe Hufflepuff, she had shown him remarkable loyalty since first year even if her admiration and adoration of him was repulsive.

"Draco—"

He abruptly stood when Harry stood. He was about to follow Harry a few seconds after he left when he felt Pansy grab his arm. He would have shaken it off, since his mate was getting further and further away from him until he heard her say:

"Good luck."

He took a double shot at her and instead of holding on to him, she shoved him forward away from the table. "I know you have something to do," she said softly, her eyes gleaming with a knowledge and intelligence that he had never before attributed to her. "Go do it, Draco."

"Pansy, I—"

"I know you'll help me with my Arithmancy paper when you get back, won't you?" She smiled and her eyes drifted to the door where Harry was leaving. "I'll expect you back late."

He gave her one last look, searching her eyes and trying to figure out _how _she knew this because from what he knew… the Parkinsons had never been high up in Voldemort's regards, so how the bloody hell did she know?! His eyes shifted to the entrance where Harry had just left. He would have stayed to find out, but there were other more urgent things that he needed to do now. _Damn Pansy!_

He swore he would find out later, swore it on his ancestor's tombs as he stalked after his mate and quickly tried to calm himself down. If Pansy thought she was being smart, acknowledging his task, trying to encourage him—she was sadly mistaken. She had made a stupid move and she was going to pay. He slowly smirked. It was a good thing the Malfoys had their Lord's ear.

All he needed next was Harry's.

-

"_**Where do you think you're going?" **_

He saw Harry stiffen, noticed the way his mate softened when he noticed it was him. Draco smiled. This was going to be easier than he thought. He had thought Harry had given in, but for his mate to be happy to see him? Now that was really quite a change. Draco smirked and already mentally started changing his game plan. He wouldn't go too much faster, but he wasn't going to go as slow as he had planned.

"Hmmm… are you going to answer me?"

Harry glanced down at the floor as if embarrassed. Draco found it rather cute though, the fact that Harry was acting sheepish. It suited his mate's submissive personality. Draco took several steps until he was standing before Harry and could reach out and tilt Harry's chin up so that those green eyes would have to look into his own ones. "I…" Harry mumbled. "I was going to see Professor Snape."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And why would you spend a Sunday night doing that?"

Harry blushed and ducked his head down once more. "Detention."

"My, my," Draco remarked, "our esteemed Potions Master really doesn't like you very much does he?" Harry shook his head. "How long will you be in detention?"

"At least until 9:00."

"Well then," Draco said, forcing Harry's chin up again, "when you're done meet me in the Astronomy Tower, do you understand?"

Harry licked his lips and murmured, "Yes."

_So obedient, so gorgeous_, Draco's veela was screaming and even his wizard self was inclined to agree. He hadn't been too keen on the idea of Harry Potter as his mate, but the idea was getting much more merit as he hung around the Boy Who Lived. No doubt because his veela self was happy that he had finally made a choice for him to focus its charms on.

"Good." Draco bent his head down and gave Harry a rather chaste kiss. It was mostly a pressing of lips, though his tongue had slipped out and traced Harry's lips before withdrawing. "Something to remember what me by."

Harry's blush only picked up more intensity. For a moment, Draco thought that Harry was just going to stand there all night staring at the ground. But Harry seemed to pull the mush his brain was in together and mumbled, "I have to go." Then Harry took off running toward the dungeons where he would probably be a little late to Snape's office. Oh well, what did he care if Harry was punished more?

_Oh but you do, _his veela whispered, _because you already do care and what happens to him affects you…_

-

"**_You're late,"_** Draco remarked, keeping his voice cool and uncaring though inwardly he was furious and quite caring. "I thought you being the Gryffindor that you would at least try to be on time." Draco glanced around the abandoned Astronomy Tower before shifting his eyes back to Harry. "But I suppose not."

Harry flushed, a charming blush really. "Professor Snape kept me late," he muttered. "Sorry, I wasn't purposely trying to keep you waiting."

"No, I didn't think you were," Draco murmured, stepping closer to his mate until if he wanted to—he could touch him. "So what did you do in detention Harry? Did you clean cauldrons, desks, or maybe even the floor? Hmm?"

There was a little wave of irritation coming from Harry, Draco could sense, but overall it wasn't much. It was actually heartening to know that Harry wasn't fully under his spell yet. Harry would be soon, especially when they reached the final step. But that would take a little while longer. Draco hadn't planned for it to happen until summer, but from his father's note—he supposed it could happen as soon as next week. And if it was going to happen next week, that meant he needed to start charming his way into Harry's sexual appetite. Mmm…

"I did the typical stuff that every student does in detention," Harry muttered, sounding more annoyed than he looked. Was his mate trying to control his features? A pity he couldn't have his tone reflect the expression he was trying to portray. Draco would need to teach him a Slytherin trick one day on how to be the one in absolute control. As a Gryffindor Harry would need, and it would keep him from doing stupid things because true control was more than about facial expressions.

"Which is?" Draco goaded.

"Clean cauldrons!"

Draco smirked and reached out to place his hands on Harry's hips. "Something a future Malfoy should not be doing. Would you like me to talk to Severus?"

Harry's eyes widened, and Draco's smirked increased exponentially but only in his mind. Did Harry not know that Draco held sway over his godfather? Of course, while it helped to be Severus' godson—it was being good at brewing potions that got him on Severus' good side. It was a pity that Harry wasn't better at potions, though Draco didn't think he was that bad if his performance thus far in 7th year potions had indicated.

"Talk to Snape?"

"Yes, I can tell him to be a little more lenient toward your propensity in landing yourself in detention," Draco remarked. "That's if you ask me nicely."

Harry's forehead furrowed with wrinkles as if he couldn't believe what Draco was saying. Draco again thought what a clueless Gryffindor Harry was. It wasn't as if Draco had any real power over Severus, but that sway would give him some leverage and if that didn't work—well then there was always manipulation and bribery. And Draco was sure he could recruit his father to help him. After all, the less time Harry spent in detention—the more time Harry spent with him.

"If you ask that of him," Harry mumbled, "he'll probably only retaliate and give me more detentions."

Draco actually paused in what he was going to say. Harry had an excellent point. Severus never did like being told what to do, Draco considered, but then again Severus didn't really have much choice. Draco would see to it that his godfather didn't have a choice, any at all. It wouldn't do to let Severus try to wiggle his way out of being less than a bastard. Amusing mental image though.

"Probably, but I'll make sure he doesn't," Draco whispered, drawing Harry closer until their bodies were touching. "But I think we've talked enough about Severus and your detentions. There are much more interesting and enjoyable things we could be doing here and now. Kiss me."

Draco licked his lips and waited. He waited and waited until he was about to turn his thrall on when Harry leaned up and gently pressed his lips against him. Draco wrapped his arms tighter around his mate and felt a contentedness settle deep into his bones. This felt right, he realized, holding Harry and kissing him. It should unsettle him, but the feeling was too nice and pleasant for him to protest much. And the fact he hadn't needed his thrall to get it was an added bonus.

"Mmm…" Draco murmured, leaning away a little to take a breath and plunge back into the kiss, using his lips and tongue to coax Harry's mouth open. When Harry did open up, Draco dove in and tasted something tangy and sweet. It must have been the dessert at dinner. Whatever it was, it made his mate taste good, delicious really. "You're mine."

Inside him, his veela was clamoring for him to do more. To taste more, to touch more. Draco complied, using his arms to draw Harry closer to him. It still wasn't enough, having their bodies pressed entirely against each other's. He wanted to feel skin, and yet he knew that this kissing was hot and almost frighteningly so. Draco could see himself losing control and if a French kiss could do that—then touching Harry's bare skin would definitely make him lose control.

"Draco," Harry gasped, taking in a long breath and clutching Draco's shoulder as if he would sink to the ground otherwise, "oh Merlin."

Draco liked what he was hearing from Harry's mouth. It was nice to know, quite nice in fact to know that he could turn his mate into a babbling, boneless fool. The only bad thing was that he felt like what his mate was feeling—though he was hoping, hoping hard that it was worse for Harry than it was for him. This desire rampaging in his veins wanted to be unleashed and yet Draco wanted Harry to be the one that asked for it. Draco wanted Harry to be the one that came to him, needed him, and loved him.

Love him?

Draco almost twisted his face into a scowl until he remembered that he was facing his panting mate. He carefully smoothed whatever hint of a frown that had been about to grace his face and replaced it with a smile instead. He reached up gently to cup Harry's cheeks and pressed a light, breezy kiss on the corner of his mate's lips. He supposed it wasn't such a foolish thing to want. Draco leaned back and stared deeply into brilliant green eyes. His mate would be further encased in his control if there was love. And as his father had told him, it was inevitable that he—Draco Malfoy would love Harry Potter.

The only thing Draco could do to make sure things didn't tip into Harry _bloody_ Potter's favor was to make sure that Harry fell for him as hard as he as going to fall for him. The sooner, the better. He didn't want to be the fool first in confessing his life. Draco sneered mentally. It would be much better for his mate to do that. Draco licked his lips. Yes, much better.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Draco whispered, caressing Harry's face reverently. "Do you?"

Harry shook his head. Draco smiled when he noticed the way Harry started to look away as if he didn't believe him. Draco tensed his arm muscles and kept Harry facing him. "You are," he insisted and it wasn't hard to. Because to Draco's veela, Harry was the most beautiful creature in the world though his wizard self still thought Harry needed to get some more flesh on his bones and do something with his hair and atrocious sense of fashion. But all that could be remedied and when it was… well then, he didn't need to be embarrassed being bonded to Harry Potter, would he? Even if Harry was a half-blood. "You are beautiful to me."

"Draco…"

"Hush," Draco murmured, leaning in once again to kiss Harry. This kiss was less frantic, less heated but no less intense. It was gentle and tender; its sole purpose to break down any walls and reservations that Harry might have and spark a wave of aching lust that would—he hoped—turn into love. "Hush Harry."

-

A/N: Don't you love the irony of this? Draco trying to manipulate Harry and Harry trying to manipulate Draco… who's going to win? I'd like to know who's going to be the one that might come out on "top" (pun intended). And the vision… is it confirmed in past or present? Anyway, this was a faster update though me and my writing partner ) are both bogged down with work enough that we want to scream. Not that I have much of an excuse compared to her (she's writing a ton admires), but we're both the typical busy college student. So why don't you review and we'll see what our muses can muster up?

I haven't thanked or responded to reviews in a long, long time but thank you so much and here goes it goes… thanks to: Fate, **AbeoUmbra** (errr… I have no idea, but I like the fact the story is bogged down in one POV), **nomistake** (b/c seers like to be mysterious?), Sara, Thranx, tenshinostar, angel, **dreamer22** (a distraction from HW is always good, HG/RW finding out will happen pretty soon and then we'll see ;-) if your guess pans out), Nichole08, Sweetest Thang, Ahia Reyn, **Coo **(Your analysis was really good! I'm curious to what you'll think of this chapter, and I like my seer angle too. It makes Harry different and while not all-powerful, powerful enough as to why everyone thinks he's special), tiggs, A-Brighter-Dawn, **Marshes to Banks **(glad my seer-plot is interesting, and Nenya appreciates the comment about her writing. She's so self-assured just kidding, she has the same self-esteem issues as I do. As for Proteus' name I got the names from a Greek seer site which is where I also got "Daphne" from too.), Kristen, **ali** (I don't think Nenya would allow me to get too OOC, if you read her DM/HP stories, Draco's so IC you almost can't believe he _can _love and yet he _can._ I think I've made her write a little sappier than she wants but ah well ;-).), cryptic, minathia, Tinas74, milasarin, LadyHuntress, Shattered Diamond, Rob, john, Pretty Racing, Morpheus, Makalani Astral, Kkwy, Ravenfrog, Smoocher of Evil, Phoegan Leisha, ura-hd, Ivin Artemis Draconis, tinkita, Yana5, Sky, usagi1313, and darkess-knight.

_Next chapter… **"A Wave of Confusion"**_


	9. A Wave of Confusion

**ENTHRALL**  
By Yih

Chapter 9  
_A Wave of Confusion_

**_Draco surely knew how to kiss._** Harry touched his lips with his fingers, wondering at his reaction and Draco's gentleness. He didn't expect the veela to be like that. But then should he really be surprised? Veelas _loved_ their mates, and Harry guessed tenderness went along with it. He just hadn't expected Draco to be sweet. It was so… unlike him.

Harry groaned with the memory of the kiss seeped down from his mind to his groin. He slid his hand down and it didn't take him long to take care of the problem. He grabbed a sock and wiped his hands. Grimacing he threw it underneath his bed.

He'd taken off the edge, but that still didn't solve the racing of his heart whenever he closed his eyes and saw the blond boy in his mind. It was like the kiss had taken the thoughts of Draco to another level. Harry didn't like; he didn't like it one bit. He was the mate, he should be in control, but he had a feeling that the cautions the books had were right. He shouldn't be overconfident.

-

**_Another Monday, another day of Snape._** Harry stifled a groan as Hermione started quizzing him about the potion they'd be making today. He knew she meant well, but he simply wasn't in the frame of mind to handle this. He was sleep deprived thanks to Draco. Stupid _sexy_ dreams.

Every time he'd closed his eyes, he'd seen the blond boy naked. It had been disconcerting to say the least. The books had never mentioned the constant dreaming after being claimed. It had mentioned desire, so maybe that was a contingency of it. In whatever case, Harry didn't like it.

"Are you paying attention?" Hermione snapped. "Because you know Professor Snape loves to pick on you."

He should have taken Draco up on his offer, Harry thought with a grimace. Today was not a day that he needed to be chewed up. Thank Merlin that tonight he had a session with Daphne and not with the Potions Master. He didn't think his frazzled nerves could stand being flung around the room.

"Harry Potter!"

Harry jerked and smiled weakly at her. "I'm listening."

"No, you're not," she said sharply. "You're daydreaming about that secret admirer's of yours."

Harry felt a blush on his cheeks and ducked his face down.

"I take it you know who it is?" Hermione asked dryly, but her voice was softer.

Harry was sure his face was even redder than before.

"And I take it you don't want to tell me?"

He shook his head, knowing that Hermione wouldn't push him—at least not yet. She was stubborn about not being a forceful person that is until her curiosity got the best of her. Harry wondered how long this imposed understanding she didn't need to know would last. Because Hermione always needed to know. At least he was relatively sure she'd handle it better than Ron.

God Ron, Harry shuddered at the thought. Ron would explode.

He deflated, all the curious churning in his stomach making him feel sick instead of strangely giddy. But Hermione would understand, wouldn't she? She'd make Ron see reason. What if she didn't? It was a horrifying thought. What if both of his best friends couldn't understand? What would he do?

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked, concern coloring her voice. "Harry?"

"What?" he croaked.

"Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey?" she asked with narrowed eyes. "You're awfully pale."

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

She sighed. "If you say so."

"I'm fine."

-

**_Snape was the definition of a bastard._** It definitely wasn't the best day, not when Harry's nerves were already strung out. He didn't know how he held his temper. He had been so close to exploding. His cauldron ended up doing it for him. Harry caught Draco's curious eyes, though other than that—the veela didn't act any differently to him. But he was mad—crazy.

"POTTER!" Snape roared, swooping down on him the potion had started bubbling. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

His professor knocked him aside and cast a warding spell around the cauldron just as it exploded. Harry ought to have been grateful, he knew, but he was just so pissed at everything. He guessed it was the confusion that was making him angry. There were just so many emotions rolling in him that he didn't know how to handle it. He needed some sort grounding.

"You idiotic boy," Snape hissed into his ear, "what were you thinking, adding snake fang into that volatile transition? You need to stabilize the base before you could continue further. Detention, Potter, for two weeks!"

Harry gritted his teeth and bent his head down. This was exactly what Snape and Daphne wanted, for his nightly sessions to appear to be nothing more than his tendency for foolhardiness in potions, but _Merlin_ it was irritating to be thought of as a dunce. He knew the material; he wouldn't have messed up—if not for Draco and that stupid kiss.

That _wonderful_ kiss.

Harry shook his head almost viciously. Why had he thought that? Was the veela's charms starting to affect him like the books had said? He shuddered. He needed to get closer to Draco and soon, once he was bond to Draco the books had said the mate would wield considerable power over a veela. Until then it was a fairly even 50-50 battle, but Harry really didn't want to bond with Draco. It was too horrifying of a thought. Foe turned to friend?

And what of his true friends? Harry glanced at Hermione wistfully. She turned his way and gave him an encouraging wink before continuing on with her perfectly simmering potion. He just knew she'd be disappointed with him today.

Concentrate! But he couldn't, not when Draco was near. It was like he could feel Draco crawling over his skin and infiltrating his senses. He had to be going mad. But he would admit it fully now. He'd admit it—oh would he.

Draco was madness.

-

**_The rest of the afternoon had sped along._** Thank Merlin that Potions was the only class he had with the Slytherin. If there had been any more doubles with them, Harry was sure he'd cave. He didn't know what was going on, but ever since that kiss—he couldn't stop thinking about Draco.

He had even avoided lunch.

"You aren't coming to dinner, are you?"

Harry shook his head and rolled over to his side, away from Ron's eyes. His best friend had gotten more perceptive over the past two years and it was unnerving sometimes how well Ron knew him. But even Ron didn't know this dirty secret and he would hide it for as long as he could.

"You really ought to come," Ron said. "You didn't go to lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"You should still eat."

Harry shrugged. "I'll have something after my session with Daphne."

Ron nodded grudgingly. "All right, I'll tell Hermione you decided to meditate before you go see Daphne. She'll accept that," he remarked. "But don't think I'll cover for you like this all the time! You really ought to eat. What would my mum say?"

Harry had to grin at that. "She'd say you were being a bad friend."

"Bloody right and that's because I'm trying to be an obliging one," Ron muttered.

"I appreciate it."

"You damn well should," he said good-naturedly before walking out the door.

Harry sighed and buried his head underneath the pillow. What was he going to do? He didn't know, but maybe Daphne would have some answers for the strange things that were happening to him. Was it just the natural impulse a mate felt for his veela? Or was it something more?

-

"_**Clear your thoughts," **Daphne's soft, soothing voice said,** "look into the mirror, and tell me what you see." **_

Harry looked into the mirror, trying not to think of anything, but his thoughts immediately went to Draco. Harry tried to push Draco out of his mind, but it was too late. He saw Draco in the mirror, on the bed, naked and he was doing unspeakable things to himself that made Harry want to squeeze his eyes shut just so it didn't affect him. Already though, it was hopeless. He felt his trousers getting tight and he was glad he was wearing robes or else Daphne would realize what was happening.

"What do you see?" Daphne asked.

Harry cleared his throat, not knowing what to say, but knowing he had to say something. "I see Draco."

"What is he doing then?"

Harry swallowed hard. "He is on the bed."

"And?"

She was going to force it out of him regardless, he knew, and it was useless to try and stop it. "He's… touching himself." Harry turned bright red and ducked his head down. "You know…"

"I know," she murmured and touched Harry's shoulder gently, drawing him back and away from the mirror. "There is nothing to be embarrassed about. He is your mate and you are his. There is little we can do now that you have this." She touched the mark on his neck. "What he is doing is natural."

"Daphne…"

Her eyes clouded over and Harry knew she was seeing something that had to do with him and Draco, what else could it be? She was thinking of them and visions that popped up randomly usually had a reason—thought being an impetus. She tilted forward and Harry reached out with both arms to steady her so that she didn't fall, keeping a tight hold on her until her eyes cleared and he knew that she was looking at him instead of through him. "Harry," she said, "he's waiting for you."

Harry just stood there, not knowing what he was supposed to do.

"_Go_."

He hesitated, feeling a strange pulsing running through his body, telling him it was urgent. Urgent! He wanted to let go of Daphne and run out of the room, run where, he didn't know, but his body knew exactly what it wanted to do. How had this suddenly come about? This was craziness. Everything that involved Draco seemed to make him feel like he was losing his mind.

"_Now!_"

This time, he left.

-

**_It didn't take him long at all to find Draco_**. Draco was standing in the moonlight next to the window, just outside the room where Harry had his sessions with Daphne. But Draco didn't look much like himself anymore. Not the cold, composed Slytherin Prince he was supposed to be—he looked like the veelas Harry had seen in the text and it sent a shiver of something Harry couldn't quite define spiraling down his spine.

"I need you," Draco said plaintively. "Come here."

Harry stepped forward, not of his own volition, but as if his body had no choice. He only stopped when he was so close to Draco that it was impossible to be any closer than he was. Harry looked down where he could see an obvious bulge in Draco's trousers and that was when Draco grabbed him by the chin and lifted his head. Harry didn't have a chance to process anything before he was being kissed like it was a matter of survival.

His body was on fire and he was glad his arms knew to cling to Draco because if he hadn't grabbed hold of the slightly taller boy, then he had a feeling he'd be a puddle on the ground unable to do anything except sit there. Oh Merlin, what was Draco doing with his tongue because it felt so good whenever it brushed up against his own. And Draco certainly knew where to move his arms and knew just how to press Harry against his body so that they felt like they were literally one.

He couldn't breath and he didn't care if he needed air, not when he felt like he was floating on another plane and he hadn't even had to have his stomach flip upside down like it did whenever he projected his astral self to that plane. Harry let himself go and just enjoyed the sensations coursing through his body, trusting Draco, something he never would have thought possible a week ago, even a day ago.

Just when he thought he might die here and be happy, Draco pulled back, breathing hard and pressed their foreheads together and said, "Do you understand now? We need each other to survive."

Harry just nodded, not knowing what else to do, not even thinking he could get his mouth to work.

"Do you consent to be mine?"

What other answer could Harry give but… "Yes."

"Good," Draco said and he pressed his lips against Harry's cheek gently. "You'd better go back to your dorm and get some rest." Draco's fingers lingered on Harry's skin, gentle yet scorching. "You look worn out."

Draco left him there, standing, panting, needing him and Harry just wanted to scream.

-

**_The walk back to his dorm took a lifetime._** At least it seemed like that to Harry before he finally made it to the safety of his bed, where he could put up a silencing charm, and do exactly what he saw Draco do in his bed. Had that vision been of the past, present, or future? If it was the future then was Draco doing exactly what he was now doing? That thought almost sent Harry over the edge and he wanted it to last a little while, didn't want to lose control so quickly, but it was hard, when he had seen the sight Draco made when he was doing _that_.

It didn't take Harry long to cry out Draco's name, slump back into his pillow, still shuddering. Harry wiped his hand off on his shirt, too tired to even think about getting out and getting something else to take care of the consequence of his problem. Harry buried his head into his pillow and just tried to block out the image still embedded in his mind of what had triggered his rush: Draco on the bed, his glistening skin, his mouth open, seeming to call out Harry's name.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. His body was still throbbing, still yearning, but that was stupid. He should be satisfied already. He should be ready to go to sleep and try to practicing dream-seeing like Daphne wanted. But all he could think about was Draco, Draco, Draco… Harry took a deep breath to try and calm himself down, so that he could think straight. Remember, he told himself, he had to use this veela thing in his favor. Maybe he could turn Draco. Harry shook his head hard. It wasn't about maybe anymore. He had to turn Draco to the Light side… or else, what happened was what Harry would rather not think about.

Draco had to be good because Harry couldn't think about being bad.

-

**_The next morning when Harry woke up, he felt like he was no longer missing a piece of himself_**. He no longer felt like he needed Draco so badly that if he didn't have him, he wouldn't be whole. It was nice to feel like himself again. He didn't particularly like being under the heavy veela influence, not when he knew he needed to be able to think coherently. Too much depended on himself and he couldn't allow Draco to get the upper hand, not when the outcome was so dear. So he had to figure out a way to keep his head clear, his thoughts on the best way to get Draco to do what he wanted rather than for Draco to do what _he_ wanted.

Clearly the veela influenced his mate just as much as Harry did to Draco. He could honestly say he felt that Draco had the same desire coursing through his body and that DRaco certainly yearned for him, but that need Harry didn't think was any different from the desire Harry felt for him. Harry had been certain, in the beginning after he had read the many books on veelas, that he would have control in his relationship. But now he wasn't so certain anymore.

Still Harry was resolved, no matter how hard it was, he wouldn't give in.

-

"_**Are you all right?" **Hermione immediately asked him when he sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast_. "You don't look like you got much rest last night."

Harry had been too restless to really sleep, but he knew he felt a lot better than he had yesterday, even if he was exhausted. "Nightmares." It was the easiest way to explain why he looked so tired. He didn't want Hermione to question him much further, not when he didn't want to tell her what was really going on. He still had to think about the best way to explain to his best friends about… Draco. "That's all."

"Are they of… You-Know-Who?" she asked softly, trying not to draw any attention to them. Harry nodded because it was easier just to agree and bent his head down to eat his porridge. "Maybe you should go to Daphne," Hermione said. "If they're this bad and all…"

"We talked yesterday already," Harry mumbled, knowing that he was deliberately being vague and hoping that Hermione would be too distracted to make an issue of it. Harry knew he was a bad liar, so instead of saying something untrue, he had simply learn to omit the parts that would make his words false. "And…" his voice trailed off as he suddenly tensed up when he felt Draco enter the Great Hall. It was like his nerves were on fire, like his senses were only tuned into Draco's presence.

"Harry?" Hermione asked and Harry had to try very hard not to turn and stare at Draco. "What did she say?"

"Nothing much," he whispered tightly. "Nothing much."

Breath, he told himself, and relax. Already, Harry knew it was going to be a long day as it was, but at least it was Tuesday and he didn't have to see Draco in any of his classes. Thank Merlin for that small blessing.

-

A/N: So sorry that it took this long to update this fic, but I really have been busy and I am busy this summer again but I'll try not to take this long to update it. If you really like the story, please review because that does tend to get me to write something. Makes me feel guilty when so many people are reviewing and encouraging me and I'm not writing!


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